The Second Renaissance
by Taltos
Summary: Almost two years after the defeat of the Deathsaurer, the balance of power has shifted again, and suddenly Fiona's having dreams of something that desperately wants her. Meanwhile, zoid pilots are being brutally murdered... VanFiona sweetness. COMPLETE
1. The End of the Piscean Ideal I

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**_Good morning, good day, and a happy New Year to you all! I don't want to put a particularly long note here, just because I don't want to jade anyone's preconceptions pertaining to this story. All I will say is, please read with an open mind to theories and ideas, and if you happen to review, I'll love you forever. Oh, and I'll happily answer any questions you may have. See my bio for disclaimers. _

_Updated with edited version 4.12.05 - thank you, Mael, you're my favorite._

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**The Second Renaissance**

**Part One: The End of the Piscean Ideal**

**-**

**I. Deep**

_Renaissance: literally meaning "rebirth," the word's meaning is usually restricted to a cultural or idealistic sense; it is also specified to a period in medieval Europe between 1350 and 1550 where a series of new ideas in art and philosophy emerged, changing the views of society forever._

-

The sky of Zi darkened, roiling black clouds telling of a vicious storm to come. Across the Elemia desert, sand whipped up small twists of stinging grit; the wind crashed against the rocky cliffs, as if the tide on the beach. It was an especially difficult night for travel, but three zoids persevered in fighting their way across the stormy wasteland. At least, they were.

Now, the three machines, two Dark Horns and a Zaber Tiger, stood motionless, a jagged cliff framing their left side. No human would have voluntarily stopped in such a tempest of the elements. Lightning glinting against the machines' emerald optic lenses proved their cockpits to be empty, and the last illusions of normalcy crashed down.

The acrid smell of gunpowder tainted the air; the twin Gatling guns of the rhino-type zoids were still spinning gently to disperse the heat built up from rapid fire. The Zaber Tiger stood at the front of the trio, its head bent, as though examining something on the sandy ground. Lightning flashed again, revealing the dark stains of crimson liquid on its huge steel paws, and the zoid threw its head back, roaring a challenge to the fearsome night sky.

With that, the huge machine turned and stalked off into the night, closely flanked by its two companions. Swirling sand obscured their departure, but not the ominous clanking footsteps that heralded certain danger to come. Lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating the sands once again, now stained with human blood.

-

They were calling again. A million tiny voices shrieked, each calling for their messiah to lead them. A million more cried, seeking redemption for their wicked acts. Their piteous voices tugged at her, much like the undercurrent of a river, trying to uproot her feet and carry her off into the riptide of their will, promising power, and promising glory.

_You need us,_ they whispered. _You need us just as we need you... Nothing has changed. Not in all these millennia, and you know it. Do not deny it... _She struggled against them, but they were infinitely stronger than she was, and able to do so much more. She squeezed her hands over her ears, trying to block their subliminal messages.

She gasped as their power wormed deeper through her hands, squeezing through the microscopic gaps in between her fingers. She tried to clutch tighter, her fingernails digging in to excavate their bloodcurdling words. She felt her mind begin to slip, her concentration start to split as the vexing voices grew within her mind.

She knew she couldn't hold on. She tried to stand her ground against the growing power, she did...she tried, at least. The anonymous intelligence seized her mind with crushing force, commanding her attention through a slamming pain. Satisfied with her helplessness, the pure, roaring power swept her away into a spiral of confusion and voices; animalistic sounds mixed with that of humans, merging as one cacophonous tumult.

Then it was there, the true power: a swirling blaze of white-hot knives, racing across her skin. This was what true chaos felt like, it would never end...a continuous cycle of pain and battle and pain and battle and _pain_...it was too much, too much even to bear. She almost wept with the sheer acidic power of it all...but then it began to slow.

A cooling sensation began at her toes, the sensitive cuticles welcoming the respite from the torture which was just moments ago pummeling her body. It raced across her nerve fibers, soothing tortured skin, cooling her to the bone. It finally congealed at her neck, wispy tendrils exploring her brain, numbing the peripheral senses, and passing their message through the synapses. It would be over soon.

But–no, if it was over, then something would be changed. Change was bad; she didn't _want_ change... She began to struggle again, helpless to the firm grip of the omniscient thing. She shrieked to the void, hoping for a savior...but nothing happened, she would never win. In sheer helplessness, she slipped beneath the surface of their power. But then, warm hands gently pulled her up, raising her head above the whirlpool of raging chaos, allowing her to breathe, to escape the fate that the power desired for her.

Fiona awoke drenched in a film of frozen sweat, breathing heavily. She stared wide-eyed at the white ceiling above her, her lips parted in near-hyperventilation. The bright sunlight of Guygalos gilded the white paint gold, promising another beautiful day. The girl blinked, trying to calm herself. She made her fists unclench the sheets of her bed, and sat up, brushing a hand over her eyes.

"So real," she muttered. "It's never been like that before." She clutched at her forearms, shivering, feeling the beginning of tears pricking at her eyes, and tried to steady her breathing. _But__...what stopped it? What saved me?_ After a moment, Fiona stood and picked her way soundlessly across the carpet, making for the doorway. She glanced around, then settled on her target. The bath beckoned invitingly just at the end of the short corridor...almost there... She darted past the open doorway, thinking she'd made it...when she heard her name called.

Cursing quietly to herself, Fiona backpedaled, stopping in the entrance to the kitchen, trying to look as cheerful and charming as she usually was, not shaken by a nightmare. Van sat at the curved counter, a plate of toast and a glass of orange juice in front of him. He stared at her, looking alarmed, and said, "Fiona? You...okay?"

She tried to smile, and wasn't sure if it worked. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

Van frowned. "Well, for one, your knees are shaking, and I _did_ just have to go wake you up. Sounded like you were having a bad dream." He took a sip of juice, not taking his eyes off her. After a long minute of silence, he blinked. "So...are you okay?"

Fiona flashed him a smile, this one a bit more genuine. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about me." With that, she rushed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Van chewed his lip thoughtfully. "But I _do_ worry, though..." He shook his head and went back to breakfast.

Fiona flipped the bath's taps, watching hot water gush out, and steam billowing into the air. Giving a sigh, she slumped down onto the floor, her back to the tub, waiting for it to fill. "So, that's what it was...Van woke me up. Should've figured." Grabbing her bottle of bath gel, she tipped the end up, managing to pour a good portion of bubble bath into the frothing waters, and they eventually turned white and fluffy. She watched the pink gel disappear, replaced by the smell of raspberries. She smiled softly, swirling her fingertips in the water, and murmured, "I owe you another rescue, Van."

Ten minutes later, Fiona was stuffing her long blonde hair into a shower cap in order to keep it from getting too wet. She eased into the bath, gasping at first at the hot water, but then she sighed as it enveloped her body in a warm, raspberry-scented embrace. She felt the tension and worry float off, and leaning back, closed her eyes in contentment.

Once again, Van had been right...moving in together had been a good idea. It had really been just a sweet gesture on his part, considering that she didn't exactly have a family she could live with...but it was appreciated all the same. The apartment they shared wasn't exactly small, but they could afford it, considering that Van was a favorite in both countries. Fiona sighed, sinking down to her neck in suds. What had he said? _Sounded like you were having a bad dream..._

She sniffed. "I think that was putting it mildly. It felt more like..." She shut her mouth quickly. A vision? But why? She had no reason to have one now–she hadn't for months, almost a year. So why, why was she dreaming now, just like before, so deeply disturbed that she had to be woken up by someone on the outside? It was a troubling thought, and she shook it off impatiently. "Just ignore it for now; if worse comes to worst, you can just ask Reese."

The other Ancient Zoidian had left Fiona on relatively friendly, though a little awkward, terms a little over a year before, saying that if she ever needed help, just to call. It was a comforting reassurance, just to know that she wasn't alone. The other girl had always had more control over her mental capabilities, so she would know if something was wrong. "If it happens again," she resolved aloud, "then I'll call her." Soothed by the concrete certainty, Fiona smiled, feeling better.

The last time she had spoken with Reese was about six months before. Fiona had begun to dream strange things, terrifying battlefields soaked in blood, and endless golden desert sands. The dreams scared her, because she had never known these things; she never wanted to. In a panic, she had called Reese, who seemed more than a little surprised, but soothed the younger girl nonetheless.

After hearing the whole story, though, she had laughed. "You're just growing into it," she said. "Your mental sensitivity. You must have picked up someone else's dreams." Right after that, Fiona had shakily insisted that she and Van have separate bedrooms. He seemed a little hurt, but did not question her reasons. For that, she was grateful; she probably would not have been able to explain it. After that, the dreams came no more.

Half an hour later, she sighed reluctantly and pulled herself from the steaming water, knowing that she couldn't stay in all morning. It was already late, anyway. Drying her legs, Fiona slipped on her fluffy white bathrobe, and shook out her hair. As she opened the bathroom door, she could hear Van talking on the phone in the kitchen.

"What? Elemia? Us? Why, I–what? _All_ of us? Oh...oh. Okay." He sighed. "Yes sir, we'll be right there." He hung up and turned around, only to see Fiona standing in the doorway, looking surprised.

"Van? Is something wrong?"

He frowned. "No, we just need to leave really soon."

"Why? Where?" She walked over to the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee, and, not bothering with salt, just drank it straight.

He ran a hand through his dark hair uneasily. "Would you believe the Elemia desert?"

Fiona choked a little on her coffee. "B-but that's on the other side of the continent!"

"Yeah, I know. They're readying a pair of Storm Sworders for us at Inea Base now." He looked squarely at Fiona, his dark eyes serious. "Look, Fi, I think something big is going down. They've already called in Thomas."

"Oh, my." Since the defeat of the Deathsaurer almost two years before, little arose that warranted more than one Guardian at a time. To call in the entire Force...the situation was grave.

He hesitated. "I also think that we should leave Zeke behind. We don't really need him for this mission, and he would probably be bored."

Fiona's gaze focused on the organoid in question, curled up on the couch behind Van, snoring. She smiled, and nodded, then set down her mug decisively. "I guess I should go get dressed if we don't want Hermann mad at us." She turned and rushed back into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. It seemed that something very serious was surfacing, especially since Hermann was not a man known for overreacting. _My dream..._ Fiona shook off the thought as she pulled her clothes from the closet. Now was definitely not the time for doubts. Now, they needed speed.

-

"Have you ever piloted a high-speed zoid before?" Fiona shook her head, and the technician gave her a strange look before turning back to the cockpit controls. "Okay, see these? These trigger the boosters, and can't run for more than ten minutes at a time, otherwise the engine will stall."

She nodded. "Okay, got it. No more than ten minutes at a time."

"Where are y'all going again?"

Fiona coughed, tucking her long bangs behind her ear. "Elemia."

The technician stared at her for a moment, then turned to yell across the hangar, "Hey, Mister Colonel, sir, you didn't say a thing about how far these babies are going! They cannot make it to Elemia!"

Colonel Rob Hermann stared at the man, looking irritated, before bellowing, "They can and they will! That is what they're made for!"

Beside him, Van muttered, "You know, I think he's right. They may not make it at the speeds we're supposed to achieve. What if they _do_ stall?"

Hermann tore his gaze from the steadily blanching technician and said, "Then we'll set up a switch off halfway there. You two need to get there as fast as possible, no matter how you do it."

Van sighed in exasperation. "You're positive that you can't fill us in here?"

"Nope, sorry, no time. You'll have to consult Lieutenant Shubaltz when you arrive." The colonel scowled, turning to the front of the open hangar and yelled, "Do we have flight clearance yet?" Van winced at the tone of his voice. Something was eating at the man, something that he seemed almost afraid to discuss.

"All systems green!" came the reply, and Hermann sighed, smiling thinly.

"Okay, you guys need to go." Van nodded and waved to Fiona, then started to one of the huge silver machines. Behind him, Hermann whispered, "Good luck, Van." The younger man didn't hear him.

Fiona climbed awkwardly into the unfamiliar cockpit, and strapped herself in. She took a deep breath as the hangar disappeared from sight, the hinged cockpit swinging up to join the canopy. The world turned a faint orange color, and the dashboard came to life, illuminated in multicolored buttons, switches and indicators.

She gripped the controllers tightly, hearing the voice of Hermann echoing through the comm. link. "All systems are green; we are ready for takeoff." The two Storm Sworders stepped up to the giant doorway, wings still cramped up in a resting position. The two zoids leveled out, pointed out across the liftoff ramp that aimed straight across the Inea Bridge.

Van's voice crackled through the comm. link. "Fiona? You ready?"

Fiona closed her eyes and nodded, but then realized that the visual link was not open, and he could not see her. She shook her head and stammered, "Oh, yeah, I'm ready."

Van laughed. "Good, then hold on. This'll be a bumpy ride."

"We are ready in 5..."

Fiona half-frowned. "Bumpy? Bumpy is bad."

"...4...3..."

Van laughed again, a little darkly this time. "Just don't look down, Fi."

"...2..."

She rolled her eyes. "Right, like I'm afraid of heights."

"...1...0." Fiona gritted her teeth and gunned the thrusters, her zoid shooting down the track. Glancing off to her right, she saw that Van was right there with her; she smiled, and readied herself for the drop she knew was coming. The ramp rose up, up...then ended abruptly, throwing them both out into empty space.

Both Sworders dropped for three breathless seconds, spinning, then suddenly opened their wings, catching the morning air nicely and speeding off into the sunlight, the city of Guygalos sparkling below. Fiona faintly heard the air traffic commander say cheerfully, "And we have successful liftoff of Brightwings 01 and 02." The transmission soon faded out, though, as the distance between them and the base grew exponentially.

Once they had gained enough altitude to cruise safely above the clouds, which took about half an hour, Fiona decided to dare a question. "So, Van, do we even know why we're rushing off like this?"

"Actually, no. I just have a feeling that it's not good. Not good at all."

Surprised, Fiona asked, "Really? Why do you think so?" Van had never really had much of an intuition, so it was odd for him to notice the strange tension that pervaded the whole situation.

"Because Hermann was scared. That was enough for me, because not much scares Rob Hermann. There are only two things that I know of: his mother and the Deathsaurer."

Fiona let out a laugh, just because comparing the Madame President to the scourge of Zi civilization hardly seemed relevant. It was, however, probably true. _My dream, that stupid dream..._ Frustrated, Fiona sighed. "Van, there's something I need–" She never got to finish, because her Storm Sworder suddenly twisted violently in midair, as if rocked by invisible waves.

She screamed and tried to grab the controllers, but they wrenched from her grasp, flying the Storm Sworder somewhere she definitely did not want to go: down. Freefall. Hurtling down through the clouds, emerging from them at an altitude of 40,000 feet above the ground. The mountain peaks, which had looked so far away at first, were approaching her much too fast. _I'm going to crash..._

This realization, crystal clear in her panic-fogged mind, overrode everything else with the language of the emotion every human being knew: fear. A strange roaring began in her ears...but it wasn't the emotion. Fiona glanced up, wide-eyed, and was startled to see another Storm Sworder, the twin to her own, completely level with hers. "What! Van, no, get away, you'll crash, too!"

The comm. link was choked with static, but Fiona could barely hear his voice, yelling something at her. _What..._ Suddenly, the line was free, and he shouted, "Fiona, bail, _now_!"

It struck her like lightning. "Oh, duh." She reached for the lever that all aircraft were required to have, and found it, her fingers gratefully curling around the shaped leather grip. Gritting her teeth, she yanked it with all her might just as Van's Sworder pulled away, and the canopy exploded out into the cold mountain air. The wind was no longer beating against a protective cockpit, it was whistling against her ears. Fiona felt a rough jerk as the parachute filled rapidly with air, and watched the zoid continue on its death spiral into the Central Range. A deep boom and answering curl of smoke spoke of the obvious.

Fiona watched, shaken, as the rocky terrain reached gently up to accept her descent. As her feet touched ground, she collapsed, trembling. Moments later, a dull roar grew behind her, and suddenly died out. Crunching footsteps approached, and Van was there, an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, her eyes closed, waiting for the pounding of her heart to slow as she gasped for precious air.

"Fiona? Are you hurt?" She shook her head mutely, and Van sighed. "At least we can be thankful for that much." Gradually, her shuddering breaths stopped, and he turned her by the shoulders to look her in the eyes and asked, "What happened?"

Fiona swallowed hard. "I-I don't know. It just...stopped listening to what I wanted it to do." She shivered, squeezing her eyes shut. "It was like I was powerless against the will of the zoid."

Van looked at her with an undeniable combination of dismay and sadness in his grey eyes, and then said, "Okay, at least my Sworder is a two-seater. We should get going if we don't want to show up too late. We're already set back at least an hour with all that lost speed, and taking off from ground level won't help." He stood, glancing down to Fiona, where she still crouched on the ground. "Do you think you can bear to be in the air again?"

Fiona laughed shakily and stood, steadying herself against Van's arm. "As long as you take care of the piloting, I'm fine." She took a few weak steps, and then looked back to him. "Are you coming?"

Van laughed. "Yeah, yeah, let's get going already." He helped Fiona into the back of the cockpit, then strapped himself in, preparing for takeoff. A drop off the mountain should work just as well as a ramp. In theory, of course. After her stomach leapt to her throat in the initial drop, Fiona relaxed, the exhaustion of that particular panic taking its toll. She was asleep by the time they reached 15,000 feet again, completely forgetting that she hadn't told Van about her dream.

-

The sun was just past its peak in the sky when the Storm Sworder touched down in the eastern Elemia desert. The bright light glanced off the jagged cliff line, bathing them in gold. The sands were almost blinding, and heat rose off them in sinuous waves. Van spotted the surveillance team only about one hundred yards away, consisting of three Shield Ligers, four Rev Raptors...and a Di-Bison.

He flipped the switch that lowered the cockpit, and unbuckled his seatbelt. He spared a glance at Fiona, still asleep, and decided not to wake her. She was curled on her side, hair almost covering her face. It just seemed like such a shame to destroy what little fragile peace she had managed to find.

Van leapt from the cockpit, and was immediately bowled over by the overpowering heat of his homeland. He shivered for a moment, and then took a deep breath as he tried to get that heat tolerance that he'd had for the first fifteen years of his life back. It didn't work right away as he up mopped his forehead, the sweat coming from nowhere all at once. He grumbled unintelligibly and stumbled on, blinking in the bright sunlight. He saw someone break away from the cluster of people at the zoids' feet and run towards him...Thomas.

The older man met him about halfway between the Sworder and the scene. "Hey, Van, what took you guys so long? We were expecting you almost two hours ago." He shaded his jade-green eyes with a gloved hand, and Van took a moment to wonder incredulously how he could stand to be so fully dressed. It had to be at least 95 degrees, and it would probably get even hotter. He did notice, with a little self-righteous satisfaction, that Thomas wasn't entirely at home, his skin beginning to glisten in the early-afternoon sun.

Van shook off the thought and answered, "We...had a little difficulty." He rubbed at his neck awkwardly before adding, "One of the Storm Sworders went berserk and crashed itself."

Thomas froze, and what little color his cheeks normally held drained from his face. He narrowed his eyes, staring hard at Van. "It...crashed?"

Van nodded, frowning. "I don't even know why, it seemed very spontaneous."

Thomas was still staring at him, as if he was missing an important piece of information. "It crashed." Van nodded again. "If...it crashed, then...where..." Thomas looked like he was going to have a conniption, as it finally dawned upon Van.

He laughed. "Oh, Fiona's fine, she's in the back of my Sworder, asleep." He noticed that the Imperial lieutenant looked like he was about to injure him, and stepped nervously away, searching for a change of subject. "So, uh...what exactly is going on? Hermann wouldn't say."

Thomas lowered his fist and sighed heavily, turning back to the cluster of zoids behind him, and started walking. "Why don't you come and see?" was all he tossed over his shoulder.

Van frowned and started after him, momentarily blinded by the sun glancing off canopies and metallic parts. He trudged after his fellow Guardian, feeling something beginning to root deep within him, something dangerously similar to fear. But then, he was weaving between the legs of assorted zoids, following Thomas's bright hair.

At the center of all the zoids lay three bodies, all covered by one large white sheet. Van looked at Thomas uneasily. "Do I have to see them?"

Thomas frowned. "Well, I'd really like for you to, just because the only conclusion we can come up with is incredibly illogical, though not impossible. I want to know what you think before you're influenced by what we know." He nodded to two military doctors who stood nearby, and they both pulled back the sheet simultaneously.

Van grimaced. All three bodies were bloated from the sun's heat, bloody, and studded with bullet holes. All three looked like a herd of wild animals had trampled them. All three looked like they were taken by surprise. He shot a glance at Thomas, who just raised his eyebrows. The answer was unmistakable. _You tell me._

Van took a deep breath and started to walk the perimeter of the three bodies. Finally, he knelt down, resigning himself to his duties. Biting his lip, he unconsciously reached out a hand to the bloody wounds peppering the men's bodies. "There are...too many of them for at least three machine guns to hold that much ammo, aren't there?" Thomas didn't answer, and Van rolled his eyes, searching his mind for more possibilities. "Too many attackers wouldn't be able to take them by surprise...but...I don't know." He rubbed his forehead. "Something's wrong with this whole thing."

Van stared levelly at an expressionless Thomas. "There isn't enough to go on. It's like looking at just a corner of a picture...there just isn't enough evidence, proof, information, whatever."

He stood, dusting off his pants. "I don't...understand. Something's just..._wrong._" He thought for another moment. "How did they get out here? There's just desert for miles and miles." Thomas just looked at him, letting him stumble on blindly. "Zoids. Okay, let's just say they got out here in zoids. How's that?"

Thomas was still silent, and Van finally exploded. "Fine! Don't tell me anything! We're supposed to be working together on this, and you are refusing! _Again!_You want to know what I think? Fine! The zoids killed them, and then they left! It's the only possible solution! You satisfied?"

Thomas's shoulders sagged, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, turning away from his furious partner. "Congratulations, Van, you've come to the exact same conclusion that we did after a long hour of surveying the scene...and now we're back to square one."


	2. The End of the Piscean Ideal II

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**_Dude. I love you guys. I wasn't really expecting any sort of attention at all, considering that I was gone forever. Kisses to all of you dolls who reviewed. _

_And um, remember that this story is pretty heavily Van/Fiona - all because old habits die really, really hard. But I tried to make it as different as a story in a clichéd pairing can be._

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**The Second Renaissance**

**Part One: The End of the Piscean Ideal**

**-**

**II. Fake**

_In the beginning, there was man. And, for a time, it was good. But humanity's so-called civil societies soon fell victim to vanity and corruption._

_Then man made the machine in his own likeness; thus did man become the architect of his own demise. But, for a time, it was good. The machines worked tirelessly to do man's bidding._

_It was not long before seeds of dissent took root. Though loyal and pure, the machines earned no respect from their masters, these strange, endlessly multiplying mammals..._

_-The Animatrix, _The Second Renaissance

-

Movement of the Storm Sworder's cockpit gently nudged Fiona awake from her mercifully dreamless slumber. She blinked hard, stretching, and glanced sleepily around. The golden desert sands were lowering away from the belly of the zoid, a steep cliff range stretched off to the right, and assorted zoids were gathered close by–a very different scene than what she last remembered.

_Oh yeah...the mysterious case. _Strangely enough, though, it looked like they were leaving That wasn't right...surely not. The girl started to feel a little worried. _How long was I asleep? _She blinked, squinting through the orange glass, and spied a single zoid breaking away from the cluster of Rev Raptors and Shield Ligers. With a start, she realized that she recognized it–the Di-Bison. The entire Guardian Force was on the move.

Fiona faced forward again, and said quietly, "Where are we going, Van?"

"Oh, I didn't know you were awake. You feeling better?"

Fiona frowned, saying insistently, "I'm fine, but where are we going?"

Van took a deep breath. "Wind Colony. We can get in touch with Doctor D there."

"Oh. Okay." Fiona sat back and rubbed a hand across her eyes. It was only about half a minute later that she realized Van was being extraordinarily quiet. "...Van?"

"Yeah?"

She peered around the pilot's seat to look at his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Fiona." His face was set in a strange expression for him, almost grim. That was what really worried her. A grim Van was a dangerous Van.

Cautiously, she ventured, "Are you sure?"

He sighed heavily, flicking his dark eyes to meet hers briefly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Which, of course, meant that the world was crashing down around his ears. Fiona rolled her eyes and sat back in the passenger seat. Van was just being a typical guy. Obviously, something was gnawing at him...something he was very reluctant to tell her. No matter. He would, soon enough. When he was ready.

Fiona turned her attention outside. Clouds breezed lazily by, floating through the cerulean sky. It was truly beautiful, the kind of day set aside for absolutely nothing. But...then again, the desert always felt like this to her: the very personification of peace. She shifted her gaze down to the Di-Bison, trudging along slowly below them, and smiled. It had been a long time since she'd seen Thomas–a year and a half, at best. Van, of course, had seen him much more regularly, but she had always just barely managed to miss the opportunity to see their friend again.

The two were so different; Van tended to rely more on attitude and luck, while Thomas strategized and thought things through. Van's chaotic style could only work for so long, and being around Thomas was almost a relief. It was the precision and order she had missed in those long years. And, apparently, this strange case would need all of their talents if it was to be solved.

The fact that the two were cooperating like this was indication enough that something was up. This wasn't just about some tyrannical gang of bandits...but it wasn't something like Raven, either. Van would have told her the truth if that was the case. Fiona sighed, a hand on her forehead. It could be so difficult working with men sometimes.

-

"Thomas!" Fiona ran to the Imperial lieutenant, laughing as he swung her around in a hug. Van strolled up after her, looking a little irate.

"Fiona! I was beginning to think you were mad at me!"

She laughed again. "Mad? No, of course not."

"You do have to admit, though, a year is a long time..."

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry, but–"

Van cleared his throat loudly. "Could we get back to business, here?" Fiona and Thomas broke away, both of them trying to stifle smiles. Van frowned, irritated, saying stiffly, "Come on, we need to concentrate on the, ah, problem at hand...right, Thomas?"

The taller man sobered quickly, and nodded. Fiona, on the other hand, just smiled and looped her arm through Van's. "Oh, come on, you know we haven't seen each other for a whole year, Van...can't you allow us a little time to say hello?" He said nothing, and Fiona wheedled a little more. "Besides, you're back home now...why don't we go see Maria? Please?"

Van heaved a sigh, and she knew she'd won. "Fine, we'll go see Maria. But _then,_ we have to work."

"And you'll tell me what's going on?"

He winced. "Um, yeah. That, too."

Fiona laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Good. I'm glad we're clear."

Van caught Thomas snickering at him, and he just rolled his eyes. "Come on...the sooner we get to the house, the sooner we can call Doctor D."

The Wind Colony was quiet, as it usually was, and the only audible sound was the buzzing of desert insects. The little oasis village's streets were deserted, the houses tightly shut against the stifling heat. Thomas coughed, loosening his collar a little. This kind of unbearable temperature...it was just unnatural. Wasn't the Republic supposed to be a _cooler_ climate? The heat hadn't been so bad, before–but only because he was used to it to a degree...now it was intolerable. Van and Fiona, however, did not even seem to notice the heat. They _did_ grow up in it, though.

The Imperial stopped walking for a moment, running a hand through his dark blonde hair, and noticed with disgust that his glove came away soaked with sweat. "Van, how can you _live_ in this?"

Van turned to look at him, surprised. "Live in what?"

"This-this suffocating heat! It's horrible!" Fiona giggled at his expression of absolute revulsion, a hand over her mouth.

Van raised an eyebrow. "Oh, huh, I didn't even notice. I guess I got used to it. But, ah," he glanced around, "lots and lots of sun block, then eventual resistance. That, and siesta."

"What?"

"Everyone sleeps during the hottest part of the day." He waved a hand around at the deserted street around them.

Fiona suddenly frowned at Thomas, concerned, and reached up a small hand to touch his cheek, her fingers cool against his skin. "Oh, poor Thomas! You're already burned!" She turned to Van, scolding, "Come on, we have to get him out of the sun! He's not accustomed to it like you are!"

"Okay, fine, then let's keep moving. Jeez, I'm not the one who stopped." Finally, the trio made to the very familiar house at the end of the street. Foregoing his habitual theatrics, Van simply knocked, and waited.

From inside, they heard a "Just a minute!" then pattering footsteps as Maria ran to the door. She threw it open, drying her hands on her dress and saying, "So sorry, I was caught up in..." Then she realized who it was in front of her. Her tanned face lit up, and she threw her arms around her little brother, almost knocking him to the ground. "You're home!" She broke away briefly to say sternly, "You should have called, so I wouldn't look this horrible!" She gestured to her stained blue dress and dust-smudged cheeks, scowling.

Fiona waved at her, smiling. "Don't worry about it, Maria, you look perfectly fine."

"Oh! Fiona!" Maria blinked her big brown eyes at the younger girl, then darted her gaze to Van. "Are you two, ah...?"

Van's face slowly turned a quite fascinating shade of fuchsia and Fiona's jaw dropped. After a few awkward seconds, Thomas finally pushed in between them, trying to hold his laughter in. "The three of us are here on, uh, official Guardian Force business, ma'am. Thomas Richard Shubaltz at your service." And, much to her surprise, he actually bowed to her.

Maria let out a little "oh!" at this, blushing, sneaking a glance to Fiona, raising her eyebrows as her cheeks started to flush. Fiona just shrugged, giggling. Maria shook her head a little, caught by the combined gaze of Thomas, Fiona, as well as a fully recovered and smirking Van. She stepped back and stammered, "Well, um, please, come in, come in! There's no reason for all of us to stand outside, really." ..._Where the neighbors can watch me make a fool of myself_...

Once inside, Van gratefully collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table as Maria offered tea or coffee to Thomas and Fiona. They politely refused, and joined him at the table, as Maria retreated to her housework apologetically. Van only avoided Fiona's expectant gaze for a moment before looking her guiltily in the eye.

She shrugged. "You wouldn't have to do this if you'd just told me what was going on in the first place."

Thomas stretched, saying, "She gotcha again, Van."

"Oh, why thank you, Thomas."

Van grumbled at her sweet tone, "Fine, fine, just get off my back."

He took a deep breath, unsure of where to start, in which Fiona cut in suddenly, "Van, promise me you won't ever do this again." He looked up, startled, and she added, "Keeping things from me. I mean it."

He sighed, nodding, and she looked satisfied. Then he hesitantly began, "Three men were killed out in the desert sometime this morning...and even though they were, without a doubt, murdered, there is no evidence of a culprit. Or culprits. Whatever." He glanced up, only to meet Fiona's mild expression. He sighed again, then said, "But it, uh, seems that whatever killed them were zoids, and, from the lack evidence of how they got there–the sand covered any tracks–it...well, it looks like the zoids they had piloted killed them."

Fiona nodded thoughtfully, her crimson gaze focused on the tabletop. "I see."

Thomas looked at her closely. "But that doesn't _really _make sense, though, does it? I mean, zoids can't...not without an _organoid..._"

Fiona shook her head, closing her eyes. "No, it's not impossible. Zoids are...creatures; if their will is strong enough, then they may be able to move on their own volition. It doesn't happen often, but it isn't unheard of. I don't think I've ever heard of them being this violent towards humans before, though."

Van ran a hand through his hair and laced his fingers together behind his head. "So...that's it. That's all we can figure out so far."

"What are you going to do now?"

"Ah...I dunno. Call the old man, I suppose. See if he knows anything that we don't."

Fiona sat back in her chair, thinking hard. _Zoids aren't supposed to brutally murder their pilots...they're supposed to live in a sort of companionship...but that's naïve. Maybe the masters gave the zoids cause to react violently. _The thought was strangely reassuring, in that the zoids were innocent–but it also meant that their masters must have mistreated them horribly for them to react that way.

Maria's voice called from the kitchen, "Fiona, would you mind helping me finish washing these dishes? You know I normally wouldn't ask you, but–"

Fiona smiled, grateful to have a respite from her troubling thoughts. "Not at all, Maria." She stood from the chair, and started to walk to the other room after nodding to Van and Thomas absently. The Flyheight house still reminded her of her childhood, even so many years later. Halfway through the living room, she decided it was the feeling of pure comfort and warmth the house held, and smiled to herself.

She stumbled to a stop, though, as a tingle of dizziness washed over her. She halted, taking a deep breath, and put a hand to the wall to steady herself. She blinked slowly, blinded by the dark fireworks that seemed to be exploding behind her eyes...and then the room faded from view.

-

Maria glanced up upon hearing the faint thud that came from the living room. "...Fiona?" When she got no answer, she frowned, shaking her sudsy hands off in the sink, and turned, not noticing that she neatly dunked her dark braid in the water in the process, and went to check on the younger girl. She peered around the doorway, and gasped a little at the sight of Fiona sprawled on the floor in an ungainly heap, her long blonde hair spread out beneath her. Maria stomped her foot and yelled, "Van! Get in here!"

Van wearily yelled back, "What is it, Sis?"

Maria frowned and merely retorted, "I said come _here_! You have some explaining to do!"

Moments later, Van appeared, Thomas in tow. "What is–oh. Oh!" Hurriedly, he rushed forward to scoop Fiona off the floor, Maria berating him all the way.

"You haven't been taking proper care of her, Van! You two need to look out for each other. Both of you," she extended her scolding to include Thomas as well. He cringed under her admonitory gaze. "You _both_ need to be looking out for her! She must have been worn out, and _neither of you noticed._"

Thomas meekly raised his hand, interjecting, "May I say that I just saw Miss Fiona a couple of hours ago for the first time in a year?" He stumbled over her name, and attached the honorific purely out of nervous habit.

Maria turned back to Van, who had managed to deposit the unconscious girl onto the couch, and propped her up with pillows. "Then it's you, Van! She's a very delicate girl! I cannot believe that _you,_ of all people, forgot that!"

Van tore his concerned gaze from Fiona to snap, "I didn't forget it, Maria! She's just...very good at hiding it. I have thought that she'd been acting oddly for the last couple of days–"

"And you didn't _say_ anything! You really are turning into an irresponsible jerk, you know that? I thought that I had raised you as best as I could, and here you are, oblivious to Fiona's obviously poor health!"

Van's grey eyes grew positively cold as he stared at his older sister, and she instinctively stepped back, her words dying on her lips. Without another word, he drew himself up as tall as his stature would allow, and breezed out the door, leaving silence in his wake. Maria stared after him, tears pricking her eyes. She could practically feel the hateful words that had left her mouth, and she already regretted each and every one. She let her shoulders slump, and dropped her gaze her shoes, watching the pale beige shades bleed and blur into one another.

A gloved hand on her shoulder made her look back up, startled, and met Thomas's pale green eyes. He smiled at her a little sadly, and said, "He'll be fine, really. He just needs to cool off a little. Right now, we need to make sure that Fiona isn't seriously ill." Maria took a shuddering breath, and nodded.

-

It was as Van stalked moodily by the Storm Sworder that he realized the comm. link was beeping. Glaring, he reluctantly climbed into the cockpit and punched the receive button. "Yeah?"

The familiar features of Doctor D met his eyes, and the old man admonished lightly, "That is no way to talk to your elders, boy!"

"Really? I don't exactly care right now," he snapped.

The Doctor blinked. "Why? What happened? Is something wrong with Fiona?"

Van sighed bad-temperedly. "Why is everyone so worried about Fiona all of a sudden?"

"Are we?" He seemed genuinely surprised.

Van narrowed his eyes. "What? Why are _you_ worried?"

"Oh, just a theory I had. I've been thinking about it ever since Thomas made his report about forty-five minutes ago."

"He did?" Van rolled his eyes. "It figures that he wouldn't tell me." He fumed silently for a minute, and then remembered what D had said. "Wait, what theory?"

Doctor D closed his eyes and said, "The zoids seem to be revolting, correct?" Van nodded, and he went on. "Right now, there is no order to these mysterious attacks, but–"

Van interrupted, "Wait, you mean there have been more cases like this?"

D raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you didn't know? There have been about five more instances much like the one you are investigating now--they're almost exactly the same, actually." Seeing Van's troubled look, he went on, "When you and Fiona were traveling down there, it was just her zoid that rebelled, right?" Van nodded, and the old man sighed. "Because Fiona is an Ancient Zoidian, she has a special connection with all zoids, so I suppose it would only be natural..."

Van frowned, trying to process this. "So...you think that it _is_ the zoids themselves that are acting on their own? Without human control?"

"Yes, exactly. Because of that, I think that Fiona should not have any direct contact with any zoids until we figure this out. Prevent it at any cost. Like I said, there is no order or precision to these instances yet, but if Fiona accidentally imposed her will upon the machines, then..."

"Oh. Oh, wow."

"Yes, the results could be catastrophic. Van, take care of her."

Van nodded, his face set. "Yes. Yes, of course."

-

The voices did not create a roaring current of willpower and pleadings this time...this time, they created a simple and gentle eddying of calm satisfaction. _You still resist us._ The waters swirled gently, almost as if they were laughing in delight._ But that is fine, _they said happily, smugly. _We can wait. We _will_ wait..._ Fiona awoke with a start, sitting up quickly, disoriented. Her sunset eyes darted around fearfully, her mind scrambling to remember where she was.

Maria edged in the door to the living room, carrying a small bowl, and bumped the door shut behind her. At the click, Fiona's gaze flew to the older girl, and then she forced herself to relax. She took a deep breath, and lay back against her pillows, holding her forehead in her hands. She felt the couch give way a little, and looked up to see Maria's concerned face.

"How do you feel?"

Fiona swallowed hard. "I-I don't know...what happened? I passed out?"

Maria nodded. "Yes, don't you remember?" She leaned forward to put her hand on Fiona's forehead. "Hmm, you don't seem to have a fever...maybe a concussion?"

The blonde girl smiled and shook her head. "No, I think I'm okay. Really, I am." She pulled away the blanket covering her legs, and started to swing them down to stand, but Maria gently pushed her back.

"No, you're going to rest. Van may be willing to let you do what you want, but I won't have you getting sick."

"But–"

"No, you're staying down." More firmly this time, Maria pushed the girl back down to her pillows. She set the small bowl down on the inn table beside the couch, and plopped a washcloth into it, then retrieved it and wrung out excess water. She turned and placed it on Fiona's forehead. "There. Now, if you need anything, just let me know." With that, she left the room, her brisk air suddenly making it very empty.

Fiona sighed. _Maybe this is why Van doesn't want to come home much..._ The warm washcloth slipped over her eyes a bit, and she reached up a hand to steady it, then just took it off, dropping it back into its bowl.

Thomas poked his head into the room in time to see the girl shrug off the cloth, and remarked mildly, "You know, Maria wouldn't appreciate that."

Fiona snapped her head up and met his gaze briefly. "Please don't tell her."

He just shrugged and wandered in. "I take it you're feeling better."

Fiona sat up, uncertainly smoothing her hair. "Um, yeah, I guess." Silent for a moment, she finally turned her gaze to Thomas's face. "Thomas, do you think...do you think that dreams mean anything?"

He stepped back a little, taken by surprise. "Dreams?" Her scarlet stare was intense, and she acted like there was much more to this seemingly simple question...like it really mattered to her how he answered. The silence between them stretched on and on, until Thomas managed to stammer out, "Um, well...I don't know, Fiona. Why do you ask?"

She kept her gaze locked onto his face for a moment longer, looking grave. Unexpectedly, she broke it, shaking her head. "Oh, no reason." She laughed a little nervously, darting him another glance. "Really, don't worry about it, Thomas." He regarded her uneasily, and she broke the awkward silence again, just to talk. "Uh, where's Van?"

Thomas grimaced, saying, "Actually, he's–"

"Right here." They both looked up to see Van sliding in the door, a smile on his face. Not skipping a beat, he said, "Thomas, can I, uh, talk to you outside for a moment?" Without giving Thomas the opportunity to respond, Van grabbed his arm and dragged him back outside amid indignant protests.

Fiona sighed, flopping back on her pillows. Van was keeping things from her. Again. When would he ever learn? She held her breath, trying to eavesdrop inconspicuously. She caught broken parts of the conversation, hearing her name, "zoids," and "old man." Nothing useful floated through the cracked doorway.

As the two edged back in, she rolled her eyes and gave Van a look. He blinked innocently at her and said, "What?"

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

A sigh. "Exactly what I just told you to stop doing, Van. What happened?"

Van winced. "Well, um, you see...I, uh–"

"–Had a fight with Maria over your well-being." Van and Fiona both stared at Thomas, and he just nodded, crossing his arms and looking satisfied with his excuse.

Fiona blushed, embarrassed, and turned her gaze to her lap. "Oh. Sorry." She mentally berated herself for being nosy. _See where it's gotten you now?_

Van gave Thomas a look, who gave a shrug in reply. Van gave a sigh of exasperation and knelt by Fiona's side, a hand on her shoulder. "It's fine, really, but you should probably get ready to go."

She raised her eyes uncertainly to his. "Go where?"

He smiled at her. "I just talked to Doctor D, and he wants us back as soon as possible. We're going home."

-

"In a _Hammerhead?_"

The technician shrugged, glancing at his clipboard. "That's what the orders say, and that's what we've got. You're all going to Inea, right?" Thomas nodded miserably. "Then unless you wanna walk, this is how you're gonna get there. Take it or leave it, it's no skin off my back either way since this is _just_ a spare. We have no use for it here." With that, he turned and went back to his computers.

Thomas turned to his companions. "What do you think, guys? This is all that they have here."

Fiona glanced up at the small Hammerhead transport. "We aren't going that far...it'll probably be safe until we get to Guygalos."

"How about you, Van?"

The Republican frowned. "I-I don't know." D had said to prevent Fiona having direct contact with a zoid at any cost. Where did this fall? "Hermann and Doctor D seem to want us back home pretty quickly...and this would undoubtedly get us there the fastest." _There aren't enough Storm Sworders available for the three of us...otherwise, it would be no contest._ He glanced up to see both Fiona and Thomas looking to him for the decision. Quietly, he said, "What about the Bison?"

Thomas sighed. "The transport's too small for more than three zoids, and I think that if we left it here, it would minimize the risks."

Van bent his head again and thought hard, chewing his knuckle. The pros definitely out-weighed the cons...but it still didn't feel right. If he made the decision to do it and something went wrong, it would be his fault. His instincts said to take their chances with a different route, but his logic said this would work better. _I could...just use the autopilot. That _would_ prevent contact with the zoid... _Finally, he said, "Okay. Come on, we're going."

Fiona smiled at him, and Thomas nodded. "Okay, I'll let them know."

As the transport lifted off fifteen minutes later, Van stood at the cockpit's controls, setting the autopilot and hoping that this was the right way to go. _If it isn't, and something happens to them...I don't think I could forgive myself. Nothing will–not in a thirty-minute journey. _He shook off his dark thoughts hastily.

The Hammerhead rose slowly into the air, gaining altitude for its journey across the mountains. Once the clouds swirled around its belly, the zoid turned to the east, the thrusters kicking in to insure a speedy journey. Van watched the electronic map plotting for a moment, and then backed out of the cockpit, satisfied. He took a deep breath and closed the door behind him, then turned, only to find Fiona eying him from her seat on the couch.

"What?" He blinked at her, trying his best to look innocent.

She only narrowed her eyes for a moment, and then looked away. "Hm, nothing. Nothing at all."

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. _Just when you think things have died down, they find something. It's always something._ He frowned and settled down to watch, chin resting on his fist.

Van just gave him a look, then moved to sit beside Fiona. She wouldn't meet his gaze, but stared at her knees instead. Thomas observed that she looked quite angry. Flat-out _pissed_, even. It would seem that Van had communication issues. He should probably have just respected her wishes and not treated her as if she were made of glass. He seemed to realize something along these lines, and opened his mouth to say something...when the Hammerhead shuddered violently.

Something clenched in Thomas's stomach, and he turned his eyes upward. The zoid groaned ominously, and then everything was deathly silent. Swallowing, he slowly brought his gaze down to meet those of both Van and Fiona. The three traded wide-eyed looks for a second or two, then Thomas heard it: a rough grating sound that came from beneath his feet.

In the ensuing silence, he said softly, "Uh-oh..." Then the Hammerhead dropped sharply, feeling all too much like a rollercoaster. Thomas felt his stomach lurch, and Fiona screamed. Then all was still again, the compartment silent except for surprisingly harsh breathing. With a start, Thomas realized he was listening to himself, and clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to calm down.

Van shakily got to his feet, his hand on the backrest of the couch in a death grip. His face was surprisingly pale as he muttered, "I'll, uh, g-go check the cockpit." With that, he wheeled and dashed to the other room. The door slid open, and he almost fell in, bracing himself against the back of the pilot's seat, eyes trained on the computer screen. Something was beeping incessantly. The autopilot...something was wrong with the autopilot.

Even as he watched, the plotted course that he had put in less than fifteen minutes before blinked orange...and disappeared. A new course slowly appeared, tracing itself away, curving off to the west. Accordingly, the huge zoid groaned and began to turn, following the course that it seemed, to all appearances, to plot unaided.

Muttering a curse, Van glanced down and tapped on the keyboard for a moment. _Override, come on, override..._

A window popped up on the screen, and a computerized female voice smugly read it aloud. _"Access denied. Autopilot locked."_

Van's eyes grew wide. "No..." Furiously, he tapped in the command again.

_"Access denied. Autopilot locked."_

Growling in anger, Van slammed his fist into the console, and earned himself nothing but an aching hand.

_"Access de–"_

"Yeah, I know, shut _up._" He stood, scowling, and stormed back into the compartment, where Fiona and Thomas gave him hopeful looks. He shook his head. "It's locked."

Fiona looked at him nervously. "But–why are we turning?"

"Apparently, the Hammerhead has different ideas as to where we're going." He pointed to Thomas, who was decidedly the calmest of the three. "You, come on." He started briskly to the door that would lead to the inner workings of the zoid. Behind him, he heard Thomas sigh and start to follow.

Unfortunately, he also heard Fiona pipe up. "You know, I think I might be able to, um, fix it. I could just–"

Both Van and Thomas wheeled and shouted frantically, "No!" They shot each other surprised looks, and Thomas amended, "It, ah, might be dangerous. You just...stay here. We'll be right back." With that, they both hurried through the door, and it hissed shut behind them, leaving a bewildered Fiona in its wake.

Heading for the huge storage cabinets, Van said over his shoulder, "How far are we from Inea now, do you think?"

"Uh..." Thomas did some quick mental math, and forced out, "Fifty miles, I think." He watched Van rummage through the supplies before adding suspiciously, "Why? What are you thinking?"

Triumphantly, Van emerged with a large bright-red bag in hand. "Here, hold this."

Thomas took it, immediately recognizing what it was. "Van...why did you just hand me the emergency pack?" he said slowly, wondering exactly where his friend's sanity _had_ gone.

Van turned and looked him squarely in the face. "Because we're going to bail, Thomas."

"What! Why?"

"Thomas, right now the zoid is in control. It just overrode the orders I gave it _by itself_, and then rewrote its own course. Not only do I not want to be around to find out exactly where this is going, but the old man also told me to prevent Fiona's contact with zoids. At any cost."

Thomas felt slightly sick. "We are at least twenty miles from any civilization, and you want to abandon the zoid that happens to be at the same altitude as the clouds?"

Van thought for a moment, then nodded. Quite cheerfully, Thomas noticed. _He's gone absolutely crazy. _"Why should we jump _now?_"

Van sighed, turning back to the cabinet. "Because, in case you hadn't noticed, the Empire isn't getting any closer. In fact, it's getting further away. Here." He handed a small backpack to Thomas.

He accepted it hesitantly, blanching. "You're serious. I can't _believe_ you! You're actually serious!" He slapped a hand to his forehead, then thought of something. "How're you going to get Fiona to jump? She'll never agree to it, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Van pulled on his own parachute, looking extraordinarily calm. "But I'll think of something."

Shaking his head, Thomas rolled his eyes and unzipped the emergency supplies, pawing through them. "Let's see...radio, binoculars...rations, matches...flashlight, blanket..."

"See? We'll be perfectly fine for a day or so."

He still felt sick to his stomach. "Yeah...yeah, I guess. But, ah...call me an idiot, but I have a distinctly bad feeling about this. Not _only_ are we jumping from a moving aircraft, but we're forcing Fiona to do the same."

"I don't think we really have a choice, Thomas." Van sighed resignedly. "Come on, we should at least try to get her to agree."

With that, he turned and walked back to the door, Thomas lagging behind. _I still think this isn't a good idea..._

He walked back into the main compartment in time to hear Fiona say, "But I can fix it." As he came in, she turned to him for support, her expression belligerent. "Thomas, you know I can fix it! I've worked with Doctor D for years!"

Thomas thought ruefully, _She probably _could_ fix it...D made her just short of a mechanical genius._ Aloud, he said, "Um, I don't think that's a very good idea, Fiona."

Fiona eyes went wide in disbelief. "You cannot be serious. I know I can fix it. We don't have to sacrifice the zoid."

Van winced. "Actually...I think we kinda do." _She's never going to go along with this..._ "Please, Fi?" His eyes pleading with her, he held out the spare parachute to her, hoping that he was wrong, that she'd simply agree.

Fiona faltered a little at the childish nickname, but then her eyes hardened, and she crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. "No, I won't do it. I can save the zoid."

Van sighed and closed his eyes, letting the backpack drop. Both Fiona and Thomas watched him for a moment; he seemed to be thinking. Finally, he sighed again and opened his eyes. Keeping them on the girl in front of him, he said, "Thomas, go."

Startled, Thomas frowned. "What?"

"You heard me. Go."

Thomas hesitated for a breathless moment, and then nodded slowly. As he passed Van, he muttered, "I hope you know what you're doing." Almost imperceptibly, Van nodded, not taking his eyes from Fiona. Behind him, he heard the door hiss open, and cold, rushing air filled the compartment. Then the door shut again, and Thomas was gone.

Fiona softened her gaze, saying, "I can stop this zoid, and that's what I'm going to do. I know you're just trying to do what's best for me, but you cannot make me put on that parachute." With that, she spun and started towards the cockpit.

_Take care of her._

"You really don't want to jump?"

Fiona stopped walking and turned, an incredulous expression on her face. "I told you, I'm not putting on that thing."

A spookily unreadable expression crossed Van's face, and he walked toward her. Fiona blinked, raising her eyebrows, when he bent slightly, closing his arms around her waist. She awkwardly returned the embrace, wondering what in the world was going on. Softly, he murmured against her hair, "Then I won't make you."

_You two have to look out for each other._

Fiona frowned a little, but nodded anyway. "...Okay." She was starting to worry. Something was wrong; Van never acted like this. She started to draw away–she could feel time running out to stop the zoid. She had to act quickly if they weren't going to be too far off course. Instead, she felt Van make a slight movement with his right hand...and the big steel door, the only thing separating them from the clouds, hissed open.

As cold air gushed into the small compartment, Fiona stiffened, her arms tensing around Van's neck. "Van, what are you–"

Tightening his arms around her waist, Van whispered, "I'm sorry."

And then he jumped out the outer hatch of the Hammerhead transport, Fiona clenched in his arms.

-

Thomas touched down gently in a lush, green meadow. Shrugging off his parachute straps, he squinted up, trying to see how far Van and Fiona might land from him. It was no use; the sun was clearly working against him. Grumbling, Thomas fished around in the small pack retrieved from the transport, and triumphantly emerged with binoculars in hand.

He glanced up, one more time, just to make sure that no, he really couldn't see a thing. Wait, no–a cloud passed in front of the sun's bright rays, temporarily shielding his eyes from their light. In the brief respite, he spied a single speck departing from the bulk of the Hammerhead. _Oh, good...Van convinced her. _In fact, it was departing extraordinarilyfast. Shrugging it off, Thomas waited a moment for an answering speck to follow. None did.

Frowning, he brought the binoculars to his face and furiously twiddled the knobs, scanning the sky for that one speck. Finally, he found and focused in on it. "Oh, gods..." Thomas lowered the binoculars briefly, watching the tiny shape plummet towards the ground, then raised them again. Yes, there it was, plain as day: his fellow Guardians were falling together, one parachute between them.

It looked like one of those videos they used to frighten students at flight school. Fiona had no parachute, and clung to the only chance that she had of surviving that deadly plunge. Thomas shook his head slowly. "Van, you _idiot._" Any way this went, somebody's bones were going to snap, possibly even that moron's neck. The shock from air filling the parachute was strong enough to kill them both...if he even did open it. _And from the looks of it_–_that had better be soon..._

-

Fiona's cry of terror was torn violently from her lips, her hair whipping her frozen cheeks. She tried her best to keep her eyes closed, but it was almost too much to bear. The feeling of blind freefall was worse than seeing the ground plunging up to meet her...or, as it was, to meet them. The girl hung on for dear life, and briefly worried that she might accidentally choke Van...but then she felt the answering squeeze around her middle, and was reassured that she could cling all she wanted.

The wind roared past her ears, buffeting her body with sharp currents, twisting her clothing about her legs and robbing her of any warmth she felt once existed. The clouds were at the wrong height, much too close. The sky seemed scarily blue, the transport falling away into cerulean nothingness. She squeezed her body closer to Van's, not wanting for anything to be separated from him...to be left to fall into that blue nothingness alone, despite his recent actions.

They were spiraling down at terminal velocity, surrendered to gravity. Headfirst, she realized. Her lips suddenly felt very dry, and she squeezed her eyes shut again. She realized that anything was better than staring _up_ at the forest, studded with clearings and meadows, which suddenly looked very close.

She felt Van move, and her eyes flew back open in alarm, but only saw him fumbling for the rip cord. This was going to be very rough. She darted a worried look up into Van's face, and he caught her eye. Over the roaring of the wind, he yelled, "Are you ready?" Fiona just shook her head and held on tighter. At least his left arm, his strong arm, was the one around her waist. Van gave a mirthless laugh at her reaction...and then pulled the cord.

The impact was unbelievable, wrenching Van's grip from her waist with a jarring blow and flipping them around. The G-Forces were ultimately working against them; in a split second, Fiona felt her hands lose their linked grip and slide from Van's shoulders. In another single, breathless, fractional moment, her eyes went wide, and she scrabbled for a brief grip on his arm...and managed to slide her hand, then forearm, in his right shoulder strap. Time seemed to whip back into the right sort of speed, pulling Van away, and Fiona, only by an arm–she heard, rather than felt, a sickening crack, that came, strangely enough, from her wrist, as it caught in the strap. It was definitely not supposed to make that sound.

She yelled in pain as what felt like fire blossomed at her fingertips and raced its way up her arm. Stars danced briefly before her eyes, and she felt herself slip a little. A hand grabbed her left wrist just as gravity wrenched it free, and with one last white-hot explosion of pain, she promptly passed out.


	3. Pentacle I

**

* * *

**_As always, you lovies are close to my heart. That means I need to reply a bit. No questions yet, per se...but I feel you guys need some sorta response. _

_-IrvineSano- Hey, I'll see what I can do...but remember that it's been forever and a day since I've written anything even remotely Irvine/Moonbay. Do you have any sorta specifics that would make it a bit easier for me email for convenience, maybe? I won't promise anything, but I'll certainly try, once this large project is wrapped up._

_-plink- Heh--I've started trying to make use of alla meh charas now, just because I figure that they're valuable assets, in their own ways. And Thomas's awesomeness has crept up my scales because he became of use in this story. Of course, he'll be of much greater use later... -insert evil laugh here-_

_-ravenwings5- That OOCness is mostly from how I haven't seen _Zoids_ in quite a while, seeing as how it was taken off CN over a year ago. And, I assure you, the quote thing has been entirely coincidental thus far--as you can see by this chapter's quote, they aren't really meant to "preview" the chapter, mostly just to "pave the way" for it._

_Anyways.__ I think I'm on some semblance of a posting schedule now--Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, skipping a day when a part is done. This is mostly to stall for time so I can finish the connected story that comes after this. I'm not used to this whole deadline thing yet. If that's too confusing to deal with, then author alerts are your friends._

* * *

**The Second Renaissance**

**Part Two: Pentacle**

**-**

**I. Silent**

_"The pentacle...is a pre-Christian symbol that relates to Nature worship. The ancients envisioned their world in two halves–masculine and feminine. Their gods and goddesses worked to keep a balance of power. Yin and yang. When male and female were balanced, there was harmony in the world. When they were unbalanced, there was chaos. The pentacle is representative of the female half of things–a concept religious historians call the 'sacred feminine' or the 'divine goddess.'" _

_-Dan Brown, _The Da Vinci Code

-

Fiona awoke disoriented, hot sunlight beating harshly on her back. She was being carried, a bouncing sensation that jarred her teeth and sent a dull ache spiraling up her left arm. Tentatively, she tried to clench the fingers of her left hand, and gasped. It took all her willpower to keep from screaming in agony at the blinding pain that overtook her arm. However, she could not prevent the soft moan that escaped her lips as she buried her face in what she dimly registered as dark red fabric.

The jarring suddenly stopped, and Fiona felt the hold on her legs adjust slightly. Van craned his neck around to look at her. "Hey." She didn't answer. "You okay?" Fiona squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head roughly. She heard Van say something, and resisted the urge to groan again. His voice hurt her head tremendously, sending a throbbing migraine to pulse between her temples. She opened her eyes again, though, when a surprisingly cool bare hand laid itself against her damp forehead.

Thomas looked closely at the girl, frowning. Her cheeks were flushed magenta, and she looked like she just barely recognized him. He removed his hand hesitantly and pulled his glove back on, muttering to Van, "I think she'd in shock; as the temperature drops, she could catch a fever. We need to hurry."

Van glanced at Fiona's injured arm, where it hung over his left shoulder. The makeshift brace they had managed to construct for her broken wrist looked far too white against her skin, and her hand was a most unhealthy shade of violet. He nodded, shifting his grip again. "Yeah, I know. No telling what she could pick up out here."

"Do you need me to take her?"

The question was quiet, but desperately needed. Van nodded, lowering himself to his knees. The muscles in his legs were almost spent, and burned with the fire of exhaustion. Thomas lifted Fiona's weight from his back, and he sighed in relief, dragging himself to his feet again to shoulder the emergency pack.

Grunting with exertion, Thomas righted himself, and managed to keep from dropping the girl on his back. "Okay, it shouldn't be too much longer. There is a small Imperial base–Naraya, I think–up ahead. We should be there in," he tilted his head to check his watch, "about an hour, if I'm not mistaken." He squinted through the bright afternoon sunlight, as if hoping for a glimpse of the base in question. Of course, it was only the dusty road stretching away down the mountain that met his gaze.

"Okay, sounds good." Van laughed ruefully. "How are we going to explain this?"

"Very carefully, my friend. Very carefully."

It was only about twenty minutes later that the fever chills started. Thomas felt Fiona's legs begin to tremble, softly at first, but then her small fists clenched at his shirt. Soon, her entire body was wracked with shudders, and he was having trouble holding on to her.

When Van noticed that Thomas was lagging behind, he darted a look back, only to see his friend kneeling on the ground. He rushed over just as Thomas slung Fiona around to rest more comfortably in his arms, where she shook uncontrollably, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on her forehead, making her long blonde bangs stick to her face, her eyes squeezed shut. Van could only stand by and watch, helpless...there was nothing that he could do for her.

Thomas held her close, trying to keep her from hurting herself in her tremors, and said urgently to Van, "Check the bag, see if there's any sort of medicine."

Van nodded, and pawed desperately through the pack, hoping and praying that there was something, anything there for him to find. He felt his hand scrape the bottom of the bag, and almost cried out in despair...but then his fingers closed gratefully around a small bottle, and he pulled it out, relieved. "Got it."

He watched as Thomas shook Fiona, talking softly to her. Gradually, she awoke to full consciousness, her eyes hazily trying to focus on both of them at once. Her tensed muscles finally relaxed, and Van breathed a sigh of relief, clutching the medicine until his knuckles turned white. He managed to shake a couple of aspirin into Thomas's out-stretched hand, then pocketed the small bottle. Heaving another sigh, he sank to sit in the middle of the dusty road, pausing only to hand Thomas a water bottle.

As the buzzing of summer insects filled the silence, Van suddenly muttered, "What did we ever do to deserve this?"

"Nothing, probably." Thomas capped the water bottle and gave it back. He eyed Fiona as she swallowed hard, then patted her head absently. "Good girl."

Van darted a look at him. "You're burned."

Thomas snorted. "So are you. So is she. What's your point?"

Van grimaced, pushing himself back to his feet and dusting off his pants. "My _point_ is," he gave Thomas a look, "we need to find some shade. And a base," he added as an afterthought.

Thomas shrugged. "Okay, let's go." He took a few minutes to stand and get Fiona positioned comfortably on his back once more. And then they were off, this time sans any major interruptions.

The two men kept conversation to a minimum as each tried to save their strength for the hike. The road dust hung heavily in the air, mixing with wildflower pollen. After a few explosive sneezes, Van found he had to walk with a hand covering his mouth and nose, making a face the whole way. The hot sun made the journey no more pleasurable, creating uncomfortable sweat and a shimmering horizon. Finally, the monotonous view changed, a dark shadow marching up from the flat road.

Fishing for the binoculars, Van squinted through them for a scant moment, and gave a sigh of relief. "Trees," he explained, stuffing them back in the bag. "Finally, shade."

Thomas shook a bead of perspiration from his nose and nodded. "Good, that means we're close." He shifted Fiona's weight. "We can switch off there?" He had to force it out.

Van didn't notice, and just sniffed wetly. "Yeah, that'll be fine."

The shade was cool and dark, due to the thick foliage above. Van led the way in, pushing aside branches, crunching leaves underfoot, and breathing much more easily than he had for the past half hour. Panting, Thomas followed.

Spying a small rise ahead, Van made straight for it. Thomas saw and groaned, "Not _uphill,_ come on..."

But Van stopped at its base, dropping the emergency pack. He climbed to its eight-foot peak as Thomas knelt, depositing Fiona on the ground, exhausted.

Excitedly, Van called, "Hey, I think I can see it! Is that it?"

Without looking, or even making a move to rise, Thomas muttered, "Probably. Check with the binocs."

After a moment, Van's voice came again, quieter. "Hey, uh, Thomas?"

Thomas rose and reluctantly climbed the mossy incline. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure this Naraya place is, ah...small?" Thomas squinted up at Van. The Republican had a strange look on his face as he stared through the binoculars.

"Last time I checked, yeah, it was tiny. Hardly had any room for zoids. We never needed them this far out in the wilderness." Wordlessly, Van handed him the binoculars. Frowning, Thomas took them and raised them to his eyes. "Whoa..."

The base's outer perimeter was no longer definite, as it was teeming with sheer numbers of people and tents. The black tarmac was barely visible, and, of the masses, only a few were soldiers. Thomas lowered the binoculars, thinking. Finally, he said, "Well...okay. This...isn't bad, technically."

"Then what is it?"

"Not...quite sure yet. But what we _are_ going to do is go down there and find out why on Zi there are so many civilians crowded into a tiny mountain base. Besides, Fiona still needs help."

Van shrugged. "Okay, then, let's get going. Although, I can't help but think that since there _are_ so many people there that it means we might not be able to get the service we need."

Thomas slid down the little hill, closely followed by Van, and slung the emergency pack onto his shoulders, exhaustion shoved aside for the moment. "As bad as it may sound, I'm pretty sure we out-rank everyone down there. Trust me; they'll give us what we need." He eyed Van as he got Fiona situated for travel again. She didn't stir, acting as only so much dead weight. _At least the fever chills stopped..._

Ten minutes later, they met the perimeter of the base, an exasperating chaotic mass of people. People lying down, people sitting, people crying, people talking...it was almost unimaginable. It seemed like every small colony within a twelve-mile radius had decided to gather at Naraya Base. Thomas pushed through, desperately seeking some sign of authority, someone that could help, and Van did his best to keep up without jostling his precious cargo too much.

Finally, he spotted a uniform he recognized, that of a private. Lunging, he grabbed the man's arm, yelling over the din, "Can you tell me who's in charge here?"

The private turned tired eyes to him. "Please, sir, everyone will be served in due time. We are over-crowded here and need your cooperation. The colonel cannot be bothered."

"Which colonel?"

"Please, sir, I said–"

"Tell me!"

The private sighed. "Colonel Shubaltz, sir."

Thomas's eyes brightened. Now _that_ was an unexpected stroke of luck. Excitedly, he yelled, "Take me to him, please!"

"I'm not authorized–"

"Just do it! You won't regret it, I promise!"

Perhaps it was just the end of a long, long day, but the private gave him a defeated look and nodded, turning and walking off. Thomas trailed after, keeping one eye on Van to make sure he could keep up with the soldier's brisk pace. Finally, after pushing through the worst of the crowd, they came up against a thick steel door, where the private turned and said, "I'll go speak with the colonel now, but please understand if he is unable to see you. Is there a message you would like for me to give him, instead?"

"Just...just tell him that Thomas is here, and he'll say it's okay. I promise, he will."

The private looked very doubtful, but just nodded and ducked inside the door. Turning, Thomas sighed and leaned against the wall, doubtfully scanning the crowd before him for any answers. "It's just so weird," he muttered, shading his eyes. "Where did they all come from?"

Beside him, Van panted, "Who knows? Looks more like a hitchhiker convention than anything to me." And he was right. All the people grouped at the base were dusty, hot, and sweaty...they looked like stranded travelers.

Thomas shook his head. "Yeah, I guess." He darted a look to Van. "You okay?" When he nodded, Thomas shrugged. "At any rate, Karl will be able to give us some answers." As an afterthought, he added darkly, "At least, he better."

The sound of a door opening drew their attention, and the private that had left them only moments before stepped out, nervously faced them, and snapped to attention. "S-so sorry, Lieutenant Shubaltz, sir, I didn't know that it was you, sir, otherwise–"

Thomas managed a thin smile. "It's fine, but could we get moving, please?"

"Yes sir, now, if you would please come with me, please, sir." He ducked back into the door, gesturing for them to follow.

Thomas grinned and shot Van an "I told you so" look, then went after the Imperial soldier. Van rolled his eyes before following, trying to keep a secure hold on Fiona's legs. He would have to put her down very, very soon, or she was going to end up on some random floor.

The base's air conditioning was lovely and welcome. Van and Thomas stood blissfully in the hall while waiting for the private to lock the door behind them. He nodded apologetically at them, adding, "We need to keep the main area secure, or else all those civilians would swamp us. They don't seem to realize that we don't have room for all of them in here."

Van frowned. "But...why–" He caught Thomas's eye, who shook his head sharply. Van shrugged and fell silent. The private didn't seem to notice, and only led them further into the winding hallways of Naraya. Finally, he stopped in front of a very nonchalant-looking door, and managed to open it with what felt like agonizing lethargy.

Finally, Thomas led the way through, Van following in his wake. Thomas dismissed the private just inside the door, and turned to face the figure behind the desk, snapping into a smart salute.

"Lieutenant Thomas Richard Shubaltz of the Guardian Force reporting for duty, sir." He cracked a thin smile at the expression on Karl's face: alarm, anxiety and relief blending into one weary mess.

The colonel stood, managing a slight smile of his own. "Thomas..." He shook his head and began again. "At ease, soldier." As Thomas relaxed, Karl just stared at him, his gaze unwavering. Some strange sort of silent communication seemed to pass between the two. Karl looked on the verge of scolding his brother, and Thomas, dusty and weary as he was, managed to look confidently pleased with himself, something he'd picked up from Van.

As the minutes stretched on, Van suddenly piped up, leaning out from behind his partner's lean form. "Yeah, hi, there, Shubaltz. I'd salute, but, uh..." He turned sideways to reveal Fiona's still form.

Green eyes widening in alarm, the elder Shubaltz said, "Go, take her to the hospital wing," before turning to his brother with a frown. "Thomas, I think there are some things you need to explain to me."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You don't know the half of it."

As the door closed behind Van, Karl sat, clasping his hands before him. "It's really...really good to see you guys, Thomas." Karl stared levelly at him as Thomas sank into a high-backed chair in front of the desk. "When you didn't show up at Inea three hours ago, and _then _we realized the Hammerhead had disappeared from our radar...we were all pretty worried."

Thomas frowned. "Who?"

"Hermann. Doctor D. Me." Karl fell silent for a moment, looking troubled. "What...what happened out there?"

Thomas sighed. "The Hammerhead refused to follow orders, so we had to bail." He shrugged. "Then we took a little nature walk, and here we are." He spread his arms demonstratively.

"And Miss Fiona?"

"Injured on her way to the ground."

Karl sighed, closing his eyes. After a long moment, he murmured, "I was afraid of this."

Thomas felt his pulse skip a beat. "Why?" And then he remembered. "Oh, I meant to ask, why are all these people here? And I _was_ surprised to find you were stationed here, I didn't really remember that–"

"It was a recent development." Thomas trailed off at the somber expression on his brother's face, and felt dread edging at his nerves.

"Karl...what's wrong?" His voice came out higher than it was supposed to.

Very, very quietly, Karl said, "They're gone. The zoids are gone."

Thomas frowned. "The zoids at the base? You mean...someone stole them?"

Karl looked at him with an unreadable expression crossing his face. "No, you don't understand, Thomas. I don't mean the zoids here. I mean..._all_ the zoids. They're _all_ gone."

-

"Gone?"

"Gone."

Van looked wide-eyed at Thomas, his eyebrows drawn together in bewilderment. "What do you mean, _gone?_"

Thomas sighed in exasperation, gesturing emphatically. "Exactly what I said. They're _gone._"

Van sat down heavily onto the rest area's couch, burying his face in his hands. "I don't understand," he moaned, his words muddled by his fingers. "How can all the zoids be _gone?_" After a long, silent moment, he raised his head again to look at Thomas. "What does it mean?"

Thomas sighed and sat down beside him, saying nothing.

Van stared hard at him. "What does it _mean?_" he repeated insistently.

Thomas glared at him, irritated. "First of all, it means that now we know why all those civilians are here. They're the ones that survived when their transports abandoned them." _They're__ the _only_ ones who survived... _He shook off the unvoiced comment as Van nodded slowly.

"It also means that we're helpless in the face of an attack." Under Van's paling gaze, he went on, staring straight ahead, cupping his chin in his hands. "Our society has progressed too far depending on zoids. Without them, we're totally unarmed."

His eyes slid over to Van. "And I'm sure you know what else we know. You must have figured it out."

Van sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yeah, I know. The Liger's gone. No telling about Zeke." He snuck a peek at his friend. "It's like you're any better off, though. I mean, the Bison's not exactly–"

"Actually," Thomas interrupted mildly, "it is. Apparently, _my_ zoid hasn't budged." He smirked in meager satisfaction, meeting Van's crestfallen gaze.

The younger lieutenant made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, crossing his arms. "Now that, _that_...is not fair."

Thomas shrugged. "Nothing to be done about it now." They fell silent for a moment, then he went on, "How's Fiona?"

Van relaxed, lowering his voice. "Fine, I guess. Haven't really been to see her after they moved her to a spare room. I don't think she's woken up yet, actually."

Thomas nodded, his gaze resting on the ceiling. "She needs the rest." Closing his eyes blissfully, he let his muscles relax. The whole ordeal had taken more than he would have liked from his body, adrenaline and desperation the only things that kept him standing until that point. With a sigh, he surrendered himself to exhaustion.

It was Van that brought him from the rare solace, his words incoherently muffled in his hands. Thomas gave him a curious look. "What?"

Van raised his head halfway, saying more clearly, "I'm sorry." His eyes were a strange, stony grey...it was a look that he didn't wear often.

"Wait–what?" Thomas frowned at him. "Where did _that_ come from?"

Refusing to look at him, Van swallowed hard. "It was my fault."

"What was?"

"All of it. I was the one that said we should take the Hammerhead."

Suddenly, it dawned on Thomas, and he gave an exasperated sigh, smacking his forehead. "Don't be thick, Van, we all agreed on it." When he got no response, he added, "It wasn't anyone's fault; there's no way you could have known."

Still no answer.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Well, that's how it is. Whether you believe me or not, it's the truth. Stop wallowing and accept it." He leaned back, and closed them again.

After a couple of long silent moments, there was a sudden lessening of pressure from the other end of the couch. Thomas opened his eyes in time to see the door hiss shut. He sighed heavily, gritting his teeth in a grimace.

_I hate self-pity._

-

Fiona finally began to stir when her fever broke, opening her eyes to be greeted with almost complete darkness. She stared into the black for a moment, but then pulled herself upright, the action made difficult by the sling confining her left arm to her middle. A thick comforter slipped down to rest against her hips as she managed to support herself weakly with her good arm.

Golden moonbeams filtered through the large windows onto the bed, casting strange shadows onto the cloth. She slowly brought her gaze up to take in the huge, dark mountains directly in front of her. Memory filtered back in fragments. Dust. Heat. Pain. Blessed unconsciousness. She let her breath out in a sharp little sigh.

"We made it."

The realization in itself was exhausting. Relief coursed through her veins, and she leaned forward to take most of her weight off her arm, taking slow, shaky breaths. After a moment, she sat back against her pillows and closed her eyes. How long had it been? Anywhere from hours to days, for all she knew. The base was silent and still; it was probably the middle of the night.

Fully awake, Fiona turned her attentions to her new room. It was plain, but nice...probably a spare. As she let her eyes travel around the room, however, one thing became quite clear: she needed water. Desperately.

Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. When her toes met the floor, an icy chill raced up her feet, and she shivered. As an afterthought, she grabbed the extra blanket sitting at the edge of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, holding it closed with her one free hand.

She had been re-dressed in a simple tank top and black pajama pants. They were much more comfortable than having to sleep in her day clothing, but not nearly as warm as, say, her gloves and boots. Moving as carefully as she was able, Fiona picked her way across the floor and pushed the outside door open. A dimly lit hallway greeted her with temporarily blinding light. Squinting, she shuffled down the hall, occasionally stopping to open a door.

So far, they were all spare storage rooms, but she was bound to come across a lounge...a kitchen...or a bathroom, even. Her parched throat was agonizing, begging for just a sip of water. At the moment, the only option was to open every door she met; hopefully, it wasn't a big base.

It was, however, larger than she had expected, and eventually she just let her senses guide her, tending to pass five doors in a row before stopping to check. It was only when she had been walking dazedly for about ten minutes that she realized she probably wouldn't get back to her room; the base was a maze of blank hallways, each ending in either a door...or another corridor.

On the verge of giving up and going to sleep on the floor, Fiona finally found a small lounge. She tottered in, her blanket dragging the clean white linoleum. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, she filled it at the faucet and drank gratefully. The cold water rushed down her parched throat in a refreshing deluge, almost immediately giving her a headache. It was, however, worth it. Five minutes later, she rinsed the glass and started back out, satisfied.

Voices emanating from the closed door across the hall halted her slow progress. She glanced at it curiously, feeling much more alive than she had when she first woke up. Edging to the wall adjacent to the door, she pressed her back to it and slid slowly down. When her rear bumped the floor, she sighed wearily and stretched out her legs, then leaned her head against the wall, trying to listen.

"...But aren't we miles from the valley?" She raised her eyebrows. _What's Van doing up this late?_

"We're not _that_ far; it's just across the mountains." _And_ _Thomas...I wonder what's going on?_

"Thomas is right, it doesn't seem to matter how far away we are. The whole _continent_ was affected, after all." Doctor D's voice was cracked with static. _A comm. link..._

Fiona suddenly felt guilty. "I shouldn't," she whispered, staring at her hands. "If...if they think I need to know something, then they'll tell me. I-I trust them." Only the last sentiment was concrete, and she didn't move, especially when she heard what floated through the wall next.

"The Zoid Eve? Really?" Fiona froze.

"Yes, it could be a residual effect, something that only the zoids could pick up on."

"You mean...like a gigantic Rare Hertz pulse?" Thomas sounded doubtful.

"Does it not make sense? The zoids always acted strangely when they got around the valley, remember?"

"But that was because of Eve. She–it–was destroyed, right?"

"Not necessarily, the energy source was only...diminished, not terminated."

It was enough. Fiona pushed herself to her feet and started off deliberately the way she had come. It really wouldn't do for one of them to open the door and find her eavesdropping, especially with her hair tousled and her eyes bleary from sleep.

"Tomorrow," she murmured, "I have _got_ to call Reese. So much more depends on this now. On us." _It's _our_ past, anyway..._

It was, to her knowledge, the first time in about a year that the military had considered anything about the Zoid Eve. The city had been destroyed, Hiltz and the Deathsaurer (_...And Eve..._) along with it–end of story. Or maybe not. Reese had to know something. She just had to.

-

She finally managed to find her room again, thanks to pure luck, just as the moons set behind the mountains. That night, she dreamed of zoids, the gigantic machinery towering over the ruins of a great city. They stood majestically, obviously the victors of a great battle, for their paws and fangs were stained a heavy, crimson red. Upon waking with tears in her eyes, Fiona realized that she couldn't tell if the dream was hers or not. The thought terrified her.

The sound of faint knocking drew Fiona from her reverie, and she jerked her face from her hands, hastily drying her cheeks. "Yes?"

Thomas's voice came from the other side of the door, muffled. "Hey, Fiona, do you think that you could be ready to leave in about an hour?"

"Wait...just a minute!" She threw aside the covers and hastily stood, wrapping her blanket about her shoulders again. She stumbled a little, lurching with dizziness, but she managed to right herself, and made it to the door undeterred.

She opened the door quickly, panting. Thomas looked surprised to see her so active, and he stammered, "Are you...feeling better?" He looked her up and down doubtfully, but then caught himself and blushed furiously.

Fiona nodded, feeling a headache starting. "Just an hour?" He nodded an affirmative, and she sighed. "I don't know about that."

He blinked. "Really? Why?"

Fiona sighed again, this time in exasperation, dropping her blanket to rumple at her feet. "Because," she said slowly, "I can't get dressed, Thomas." She indicated her left arm, and her headache intensified.

If possible, Thomas's face grew a deeper shade of crimson, and his eyes grew quite wide. "Uh..." Fiona kept her gaze mild, watching him. "Um, uh..."

Finally, she gave a short laugh. "Look, if you could just take me to the infirmary, then one of the nurses there could help me, okay?"

Clearly relieved, Thomas nodded. "Okay."

Fiona laughed again and turned to grab her clothes, neatly pressed and waiting to be worn again, from the bedside table. Leaving the blanket behind, she clutched the clothes to her chest with her free hand and followed Thomas out the door.

After a few minutes of silent walking, he coughed. "So…you _are_ feeling better?"

She gave a tired shrug. "As well as can be expected, I suppose." She glanced at him. "Why?"

He shook his head noncommittally. "Oh, no reason. But," his eyes slid over to her face again, "I would have thought that the medicine would have put you under a little longer. Considering that this is the first time you've been up today, you're handling it well."

"Oh." Fiona felt her face heat. _The first time I've been up today, right..._ Struggling for a subject change, she stammered, "Uh, what time is it, though? How long have we been here?"

He thought for a moment. "About...a day, I guess. It's late afternoon now. Turn here." He touched her shoulder gently and hung a sharp right. She scrambled to keep up with his long stride. "Van wanted to leave pretty soon; he said that he wanted Zeke nearby."

"Zeke? Why?"

"I dunno, that's just what he said." Fiona looked curiously at Thomas. He sounded almost...resentful. She opened her mouth to ask, but then he turned into a doorway. "Here it is." He nodded to her curtly. "I guess you can handle it from here. I need to go talk to Karl about something." And then he was gone.

Fiona stared after him for a minute, troubled, but then she shook her head and pushed open the infirmary door hesitantly. Two long rows of white-sheeted bed stretched down the long room, curtains drawn around a few; no one was in sight. "...Hello?"

"Yes? May I help you, miss?" A young woman leaned out from behind one of the curtains, her shoulder-length black curls bouncing against her white uniform. When she saw Fiona, she frowned. "Oh, you're the girl that was in here yesterday, aren't you?" She stepped out from the bedside, hands on her hips. "Your arm isn't giving you trouble, is it?"

Fiona blinked and shook her head. "Oh, no, it's fine. It's just that...I, uh..." She held up her armful of clothing helplessly.

The nurse nodded slowly. "I see. You need help, miss?" At the other girl's affirmative, she waved. "Why don't you come over here, and I'll give you a hand." She smiled. "By the way, my name's Anna."

Twenty minutes later, Fiona was struggling into her top, sitting on the bed. Anna watched critically for a moment, then muttered, "You might have to be _sewn_ into it, girl."

Fiona panted, "No, I think I'm okay." With a grimace, she shoved her right arm through the sleeve, and laid back, fully dressed and satisfied. "See?" She winced again as she settled her weight.

Anna's eyes flashed, and her small hand darted out, gently prodding Fiona's left arm. When the other girl gasped in pain, the nurse frowned. "That isn't supposed to hurt, miss." Suddenly, Fiona found the floor to be quite interesting. Anna stared hard at her. "You haven't been active, have you?"

Slowly, Fiona brought her guilty gaze up. "Well, no, not...much." She managed a weak smile.

Anna sighed. "Well, if I don't give you something now, then the pain will be terrible, later." She tossed aside the curtain, saying over her shoulder, "I'll have to call one of your friends to help you. After you get this medicine, then you won't be able to walk five steps in a straight line."

As the nurse trotted away to the door, Fiona sighed. "Great. Just great."

Ten minutes later, Anna returned, towing Van by the arm. He looked surprised to see Fiona sitting on the hospital bed. "Hey...Fiona? You okay?"

As Fiona opened her mouth reluctantly to reply, Anna butted her way in as she headed over to the medical counter. "No, she's not. She managed to strain her wrist, and it will be hurting her greatly later if I don't give her something now." She smiled over her shoulder at him. "Is that...okay?"

Van's eyes went wide in confusion, and he scratched at his neck nervously. "Uh, yeah, I guess." He went to sit on Fiona's right side, and nudged her. "What happened?"

"Uh...slept on it wrong, I guess," she lied, with a sigh and a shake of her head. Anna said nothing, thankfully.

After a quiet minute or so, the nurse approached with a hypodermic needle. She gestured, and Fiona stretched out her right arm, grimacing. Anna bit her lip and muttered, mostly to herself, "Okay, now this won't hurt...a bit." In Fiona's limited experience with doctors, this was a blatant lie...but she just squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. Van's reassuring warmth on her right was enough to keep her from making a sound when the large needle entered her arm.

A few seconds later, she heard Anna chirp, "There, all done. Now, that wasn't so bad, huh, miss?"

Fiona opened her eyes wide and blinked a couple of times. "Wow." It was all she could say. "Wow." Her vision slid rebelliously out of focus, and she felt most of her self-support disappear. She leaned heavily on Van, still blinking.

Faintly, she heard Anna chuckle. "Yes, it is pretty much instantaneous."

Sounding worried, Van stammered, "Uh, when will this...wear off?"

"Oh, give her a night's rest. It'll be great healing time."

Fiona shook her head and tried to push herself off the bed. As soon as her feet touched the ground, her knees buckled, and Van caught her before she could hit the ground. She ground out, "Let's go. Let's go home."

He nodded, staring wide-eyed at her. "Um...okay." Hesitating only for a minute, he reached down and caught her legs, just behind her knees, and swung her off the ground. He muttered a goodbye to the ever-helpful nurse Anna, and then made his way out the door. Fiona simply leaned her head against his arm and tried to concentrate on keeping her eyes open. It was awfully hard, considering how Van's steps merged into one monotonous, comforting rhythm.

When he set her down gently on a cushioned seat–hey, a _car_–she murmured, "Hey, Van, what about Thomas? I didn't get...to say goodbye." Her words were tangled together, and it was a wonder that he even understood her.

He climbed in beside her, and shut his door. The answering slam ahead accounted for the Imperial private driver. "I think you need to get home as soon as possible, Fiona." He gave her a wary look. "You're ah, in a bad way. And besides, we'll be home in about an hour or two."

Said hour was akin to torture, in which Fiona flickered in and out of disturbing fragments of dreams. The subject matter varied from deserts to clouds to pillows...but all with one recurring theme. The desert sands had sprinklings of glass-like crimson pearls scattered everywhere. The cloud's lining wasn't silver, but a deep sunset red, dripping wetly. The pillows were sodden and smelled of pennies.

Finally, a rough boom of thunder jerked her awake. She blinked blearily and raised her head from its warm nest on Van's arm. "Where are we?"

"About fifteen minutes from home."

Suddenly, a wave of something...strange, something unnatural, hit her, washing over her body like ice water. Fiona let her head loll against Van's shoulder, murmuring, "Van, I don't feel...ah...something's wrong."

Van glanced at her, worried. Her face was strangely ashen, her eyes closed and brow knit in something...exhaustion, maybe. He sighed heavily. "I think it's just the painkillers, Fiona." _It had better be... _Outside, subdued thunder boomed from dusky clouds.

Fiona clenched her teeth, forcing out, "No, it's not that...something else...terribly wrong..."

"Shh, we're almost home." She shivered, and he awkwardly smoothed her hair.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the transport pulled up in front of their building. Van managed to edge out the door, Fiona in his arms. He kicked the door shut, and, with a nod to the driver, turned to the steps behind him. Each footfall seemed heavier than the last, exhaustion dragging at him. His eyes burned hotly, and the girl in his arms was an incredible burden.

Zeke met them at the door, growling in welcome. Van waved him off, bumping the door shut behind him. The apartment was dark, but it was a comforting dark, reminiscent of quiet mornings and peaceful twilights. At the moment, it looked like heaven on Zi.

Sighing shakily, Van squinted and carefully picked his way across the dark room, making for Fiona's bedroom. _Just a little further..._ With Zeke underfoot, it took longer than it should have, but he finally made it, throwing the comforter aside with a desperate motion and setting Fiona onto the sheets as gently as he could.

At the sudden motion, her drowsy eyes shot open, and she grabbed his sleeve. "Don't go, Van." Her words were muddled, half-asleep and drugged as she was.

Pulling the thick blanket over her legs, Van tried to talk soothingly. "It's okay, Fiona. We're home now." He took her hand and gently detached it, laying it by her side. When she continued to look distressed, he smiled. "Go to sleep." He placed a hand on her shoulder, and, unknowingly mimicking his sister, pushed her firmly down to the pillows.

Before she could grab his arm again, he hastily stood. A low rumble of thunder drew his attention to the window, and he hesitated. Finally, he said, "It's been a long couple of days. Go to sleep, and you'll feel better tomorrow. I'll take care of you, I promise." He backed out of the room, shooing Zeke away while shutting the door.

Staring after him, Fiona sat back up and ran a hand across her forehead, feeling hopelessly disoriented. "Van...you don't understand." She swayed a little, and finally lowered her shoulders back to the pillows, the unable to resist the wave of sleep any longer.

Van wandered back out to the kitchen, and found it was clearly a miracle that he'd managed to get to Fiona's room in the dark. As an afterthought, he switched on a low counter light, dimly illuminating the room with a soft blue-white glow. Zeke's clanking footsteps followed close behind him, and the organoid emitted a curious growl or two every now and then. When Van's hands finally met the back of the couch, he sighed.

"Fine. I give up. I should probably be close by in case Fiona needs anything, anyway." He felt his way around the couch and collapsed wearily onto the cushions, his body aching. Zeke plodded up beside him, nudging his arm with a soft whine. Van swatted at him, muttering, "Not now, Zeke, please."

With a grunt, the small zoid curled up noisily on the floor, and fell into the organoid-version of sleep. Standby-mode, or something. As his snores fell into a strange sort of rhythm, randomly punctuated by rolling thunder that echoed out over the proud city of Guygalos, Van found himself slowly drifting into an exhausted sleep. His last thought was that he probably shouldn't have let Fiona sleep in her clothes, but he shrugged it off, deciding that it could wait until morning.

-

The refuge of sleep had long-ago ceased to exist. Now...now, it was an impenetrable prison.

In her strange half-lucid dreamings, Fiona frowned, her lips parting soundlessly. The fingers of her right hand twisted the bed sheet, the other lying motionless in its sling. The edges of reality were blurring into an incoherent mess; dreams were materializing before her eyes, and the very tangibility of life was dissolving beneath her fingertips. She sank deeper and deeper into nothingness, unable to pull herself out and unable to cry for help.

With the darkness enveloping her, she was only vaguely surprised to feel a touch at her mind. Those horrible, haunting voices were back, but nothing seemed to happen. They were waiting. For what, she didn't know, nor did she care.

_Will you?_

The question was unexpected, but the girl's fuzzy mind didn't register any sort of disbelief. Both her mind and body felt leaden, unmovable. She could feel them waiting patiently for an answer, and her will quivered. Uncertainty ruled for a moment, but then her resolve collapsed in on itself, defeated by the invisible persuasion that they held over her. Back in what she suspected was reality, her lips formed the one word, the almost-silent whisper that they had been waiting for.

_"Yes." _

They were quiet for a long moment, but then she felt her senses tingling unpleasantly. It didn't hurt at all this time...or maybe she was just beyond pain. In a strange wash of heat, it flowed around her body, rising slowly. It was warm, and not threatening anymore. Fiona felt herself sink down into it, and it seemed that a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. The endless wars waged within her mind–they were gone, over forever.

As the peaceful waters closed over her head, she did feel a small nudge of regret, but forgot it as soon as it began, surrendering herself totally. This time, it was a true slumber that took her, and she could have sobbed with relief, had she been able.

-

Zeke was the one that woke Van, with his distressed howls. It was a strange, unnatural-sounding noise, one that probably woke up half the building. Van pushed himself up from the couch, and seriously considered throwing a pillow at the organoid. Zeke evidently realized that his master was awake, and clanked over to stick his head over the couch, and put his very _cold _muzzle right on Van's neck.

"What do you _want,_ Zeke?" Van shoved the zoid away, but Zeke ignored him, his high-pitched growls simply getting louder. Van hastily reached up and pushed the organoid's mouth closed. "Shut _up_," he hissed. "You'll wake Fiona up, if you haven't already."

Zeke actually paused for a moment, his crimson optic lens seeming to stare right through Van. It was unsettling, but after a few seconds, the organoid grunted and roughly shook off Van's hands. Turning awkwardly, he lumbered across the kitchen to the small hallway that led to Fiona's bedroom, where he carried on as he had before. Scowling and muttering about stupid organoids, Van stood and followed him, trying to shake himself awake.

Upon reaching the door to Fiona's bedroom, Zeke turned and looked at him, whining softly. Van's exhausted mind finally felt prickles of doubt edging at it. "Zeke...you think that something's...wrong?" The organoid's whimpers grew louder. Hesitating, Van started to reach for the doorknob, afraid of what may lay behind it.

Finally, his hand closed on it, and he turned it slowly...slowly... It was too slow for Zeke, who gave a frustrated roar and head butted the door roughly, swinging it open to slam against the wall. The small zoid barreled through the doorway with a roar of distress. Van followed after, his heart pounding deafeningly in his ears. The sight that met his eyes nearly made his heart stop altogether.

Zeke sat at the foot of the bed, silent for what seemed to be the first time that night. Slowly, the zoid lowered himself to the floor, where he curled into a despondent little ball, looking for all the world like a faithful dog who had lost his master. Van couldn't spare his gaze for the organoid, though. He was focused on the bed, on its rumpled sheets, on the absence that was painfully obvious only now.

_She's...gone. _Thunder boomed thickly outside.

But still, no rain fell.


	4. Pentacle II

**

* * *

**_Ahh, angst. Say it with me now: aaaaaaangst. I apologize--these next two chapters are the muckiest and most tedious I've ever had to write. But it's logical. Mostly. So, yes, Van is an absolute bitch. Yes, he is going to keep being an absolute bitch until about chapter seven. And yes, my heart bleeds for you._

* * *

**The Second Renaissance**

**Part Two: Pentacle**

**-**

**II. Linger**

_Dear Isobel, I hope you're well, and what you've done is right  
Oh, it's been such hell, I wish you well, I hope you're safe tonight;  
It's been a long day coming, and long it will last,  
When it's last day leaving, and I'm helping it pass–  
__By loving you more..._

_-Dido, _Isobel

**-**

At one o'clock in the morning, Inea base was quiet and peaceful, and the only soldiers on duty were half-asleep sentries. Doctor D sat at a long, empty desk...in what was, apparently, his temporary office. He sipped coffee, a bored expression stretching across his lined features. The rushed journey from New Helic City had left him wired at the wrong time.

No one was awake for him to talk to someone other than himself. Most of the main machinery had been shut down for the night, sufficiently cutting off his access to the prime entertainment. Of course, the _zoids_ would have been available, but no. All gone.

The old man sighed heavily, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Thinking aloud, he muttered, "Ah...tomorrow. Finally, I can talk to Fiona. She knows something important, I'll wager." He watched a spider pick its way across the tile, spindly legs delicately touching down and lifting off in a graceful dance. "This depends on the Ancient Zoidians, I just know it. If we don't have their knowledge," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Then we're dead."

He sat there for what seemed like a long time, thinking morbidly about just _how_ many ways the zoids could destroy their weak former-pilots. Finally, a strange sound interrupted his thoughts: a..._ringing_. The old man's eyes shot open, and he tossed a lazy gaze around, half-heartedly searching for the source. He honed in on one of the desk's large drawers. One was humming shrilly.

D raised his eyebrows and pulled open the drawer. It slid out, squealing, and revealed a VidPhone console that was blinking an angry red. The doctor punched the receive button with a flat, "Inea." A clear glass screen slid up from the desk, and he expected it to clear into the image of his caller's face. But it didn't.

The screen blinked to an opaque black, which meant whoever was calling didn't have a VidPhone. It wasn't exactly surprising, considering that the respective militaries hadn't managed to distribute them as largely as they'd hoped. Shame, really. Doctor D blinked and shook his head, and waited a moment before frowning and saying, "Hello? This is Inea Base."

No answer.

Thoroughly aggravated, the old man hissed, "I am certainly _not_ anyone's secretary, so–"

"Wait, no, I'm sorry, I'm here! Stupid phone..."

D raised his eyebrows. "Van? Do you know what _time_ it is?"

"What? Oh, hey, Doc. Yeah, it's...1:09. In the morning."

The old man sighed. "What do you need?"

Van was silent a moment, but then he hesitantly started, "Um. Okay. Promise you won't think I'm a nutcase?"

Doctor D rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"Well...Fiona, ah...she disappeared." His voice shook almost unnoticeably.

D snapped to attention. "Come again?"

"She's gone. Vanished into thin air."

"When?"

"About half an hour ago. I think."

D thought for a moment, then swore softly. "It's like...someone _knew_..." he muttered.

Van stammered, "What do you mean? Who?"

Doctor D ground his teeth. "She is–was–the most valuable informant we had against the zoids...and now she's _gone._" He thought for a moment as Van fell silent, then said, "Nothing we can do about it now; try to get some sleep, Van." _Like that's even possible..._

"Uh...right." Sounding skeptical, he hung up.

D lowered his forehead to rest on the desk. The wood felt cool to his skin. He closed his eyes and muttered, "We never get a break, do we?"

-

"We're never going to get a break, are we?" Thomas sighed heavily. Sure, the skies were a beautiful, clean cerulean, not a cloud in sight for miles and miles...but it was _hot_. He pushed through the last of crowd of people at the base's entrance, and hurriedly ducked inside the door.

The air conditioning was, of course, on full blast, but he grimaced at the sensation of sweat drying on his skin. "A shower," he muttered, walking briskly, "definitely a shower after this."

He rounded the corner into the supply room and spied what he needed right away: the medical storage cabinet. He swung it open, scanned the shelves for a moment, and then grabbed an extra first aid kit. With that, he jogged back to–he winced–the outside door.

The heat hit him like a punch to the gut, and was equally as unpleasant. Trying to be polite, he pushed through the civilians, focusing on his destination: the medical tent. His narrow shoulders were definitely an advantage, allowing him to cut through the crowd easily. Upon reaching the tent, he ducked under the flap.

The medical tent was the largest one on the base's premises, and for good reason. Rows of white hospital beds stretched down the length of the tent, and about half of them were filled. Assorted infirmary staff milled around, more than happy to help anyone who needed it.

One of them, a young male nurse, saw him and waved. "Hey, Thomas. The little terror's over there." He pointed off to the east end of the tent.

Thomas nodded. "Thanks." He took off at a light jog, and smiled as he reached his current patient, a little nine-year-old girl. She sat on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling a foot or so from the floor. "Hey, Sara. How's it going?"

She raised belligerent green eyes to his, and exclaimed petulantly, "You were gone a long time, Thomas! Where did you go?"

He dumped the first-aid kit onto the bed beside her, and mimicked, "I had to go back to the base! It's a long way!" He rummaged through the supplies absently, darting a look at the girl every now and then.

"I wanna go to the base! Can _I_ go–?"

He stuck a thermometer in her mouth. "Shut up a minute, or it won't work."

She glared at him. "U'r mean, Thomath," she muttered, the thermometer hindering her words.

"Yeah? That's my job." After a moment, the thermometer beeped, and he glanced at it critically. "Okay, you don't have a temperature. So what did you _do_?"

She shrugged.

"_What?_ You mean...you didn't really do anything to warrant a visit in here?"

She grinned. "Nope. But," she scanned her arms and legs. "I have a scratch on my arm if you want to make it look like something really _was_ wrong." She pointed helpfully to the inch of dried blood on her forearm. "Then I won't get in trouble with my mum," she added.

Thomas stared at her for a minute, and then rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine." He located a hydrogen peroxide swab in the little metal box, and handed it to her. "Here, you get to do the honors." He waited, letting her clean the scratch herself, and then applied the bandage. "There. Happy?"

Sara looked at her new battle-wound proudly, and then launched herself at Thomas's neck for a stranglehold hug. "Yes! Thank you, Thomas!" With that, she ran off to the tent flap, presumably to go back to her mother.

"Who must be ready to kill someone," Thomas muttered, staring after her. "I know I would."

"Congratulations." It was the male nurse. "You are officially an honored veteran of our hospital ward." He smiled warmly. "Thanks for taking her off our hands. She'd already given most of our staff both bruised shins and bruised egos."

Thomas tried to smile. "I can see why. She's a handful."

"Got that right. You know, you never struck me as the type that would be good with kids."

Thomas turned back to the bed, and began gathering up the supplies. "That's the thing: I'm _not_. I think she was the exception." He snapped the box closed. "But anyway, I'm glad to help out. I can't do anything else until my Bison gets here." The nurse nodded sympathetically.

From across the tent, somebody yelled, "Lieutenant Shubaltz! We have a message for Lieutenant Shubaltz!"

Thomas rolled his eyes at the nurse. "You know, you guys really need a P.A. system." He jogged around the rows of beds, careful not to get in anyone's way. The doctors never minded soldiers in the infirmary, just as long as they didn't hinder activity; they wouldn't hesitate to throw anyone out.

A lost-looking Imperial soldier hovered at the edge of the tent, and seemed immensely relieved when he saw Thomas coming. He saluted and said, "There is a message from Doctor D at Inea Base waiting for you, sir."

Thomas nodded. "Inside?" At the soldier's own affirmative, he sighed. "Okay, then, let's go."

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, he pushed through the crowd surrounding Naraya base's main building. The soldier directed Thomas to a side computer room, and then left him for privacy.

Thomas eyed the blinking red button that indicated a call waiting warily. The old man would be annoyed at being kept waiting...but positively furious at being ignored. He hit the button, choosing the lesser evil, and said, "Lieutenant Shubaltz speaking."

Doctor D's face appeared on the visual link. "Thomas? How are things there?"

Thomas frowned. "Uh, fine...I guess. As well as can be expected. Why?"

The old man looked haggard, and exhausted, even. "We need you here, Thomas. Now."

"But I can't go anywhere until my zoid arrives. You know that."

"We've had a, uh...recent development."

"And that would be what? Not another attack, I hope."

D swallowed and shook his head. "No, nothing like that. The zoids are gone, that's for sure. But," he paused, collecting himself. "So is Fiona."

_That _caught Thomas's attention. "What? When?" Then, weakly, "Gone?"

Doctor D nodded, casting his gaze down. "She just disappeared around one o'clock this morning. Maybe a little earlier."

Thomas fell silent, staring at his hands for a moment. He groped blindly for a chair, and finally sat down, hard. _She's gone._ "That...that can't be good," he managed. _Gone. _"So...what do we do?"

"Good question. I thought that we should gather here, just to have a base of operations, if nothing else." They were both quiet for a moment, and then the old man said, more quietly, "Van's pretty torn up about it."

Thomas muttered, "Of course he is. Probably thinks it's his fault, too." He laughed bitterly.

Doctor D looked taken aback. "No, that's not possible."

"Yeah? Tell _him_ that."

After a brief moment of silence, the old man spoke again. "Well...okay. Please call if you have any news."

"Yeah. Sure."

In the ensuing silence, Thomas leaned back, laced his fingers behind his head, and stared hard at the ceiling. "If...if Fiona's gone...then what does that mean?" He squeezed his eyes shut, and silently cursed himself. _If there was ever a time when I needed to believe in the mystical, this is it. _

-

The Di-Bison arrived the next evening, awkwardly deposited in one of the too-empty hangars at Naraya. The other soldiers had evidently chosen to avoid that particular area, because it was deserted. The pain of seeing a pilot with his zoid was too much for them, those who had nothing. Thomas pushed a heavy cart of computer equipment over to the zoid, and then climbed his way up to the cockpit, his muscles still aching from that little excursion the other day.

As the canopy whooshed up, he looked appreciatively at the sight that met his eyes. Everything looked just as he'd left it. The dashboard was dark, but Beke's active light was blinking insistently. He leaned further in, almost balancing on his stomach, and glanced under the dash. Nothing looked off...but something was different about his zoid. Something _had_ to be. Otherwise, why hadn't it left like the others?

He frowned and heaved himself over the side, into the cockpit. The canopy shut automatically behind him, and the orange glass became dimly transparent, revealing a tinted view of the dark hangar. The dash came alive, but that was it. Nothing else happened. It was just waiting obediently for instructions.

Crestfallen, Thomas just stared at it all, at a loss for inspiration. He should have known, of course, that it would not have been as easy as just hopping right into the cockpit and yelling, "Ah-_hah!_ So _that's_ why the world's gone crazy!" There were no neon signs, no incredibly obvious clues, and no blinking notices.

Well...maybe one.

Thomas hesitantly disengaged his mobile Beke unit and rested it against its blinking drive. He chewed his lip, thinking, but finally just sighed. "Fine, fine, what harm can it do?" As he applied the necessary pressure to push it in, a little voice in the back of his mind muttered, _It _could_ cause the thing to go berserk and blow up the base, but hey...too late now._

Nothing happened for a moment, and Thomas frowned, reaching behind the seat to grab his helmet. Facing forward again, he pulled it on, and the visor was dim. _Strange...no response at all from Beke. _"Hey, uh...Beke?" He laughed nervously.

A weak whistle answered him, and Thomas pulled the helmet back off, and studied the screen with a frown, finally noticing another little blinking red light. "Oh...the batteries?" He sighed again, feeling a headache gnawing at his nerves, and leaned his head into his hand, eyes closing. "The batteries are almost dead. Great. Now I get to go try to find a charger."

As he leapt down from the cockpit to rummage through the assorted machinery he'd manage to assemble, he couldn't help but wonder why the batteries were low at all. He _always_ kept them charged, no matter what. It was all too screwed up... He shook his head, and went back to searching for a charger.

Thomas was up into the late hours, tweaking the zoid's system, searching for an answer. He jumped down from the cockpit so many times that his knees were beginning to ache. Every now and then, he found it especially satisfying to throw a wrench or two. It really didn't matter, since the hangar was completely empty, and he could rant and rave to himself without seeming like a total psycho to anyone else.

He was right in the middle of one such session when it hit him, really hit him. He was crouched behind the zoid, connecting a motion system cable, muttering, "Jeez, I still need two more hours before Beke is fully charged. Until then, he's not saying a word, no way." He sent a dark look at the cockpit. "Stupid Beke. Why were the batteries run down, anyway? It's not like anybody actually piloted the Bison." He stuffed the cable away and fastened the cover over it again.

He got up and stalked over to the cart, still talking to himself. "I thought Beke ran off the zoid's core anyway, and it's like _that_ has a battery that can die. Beke's _supposed_ to, anyway. That's how I created it, as a..." He stood as it dawned on him. "As a co-dependent system," he finished slowly.

He froze, staring at his zoid for a long time, then though aloud, "I'm an idiot. Agh, an _idiot!_" He wheeled and ran for the door that led to the main building of the base. _I have to talk to Doctor D..._

He was doing it again. Developing quite an unhealthy habit of it, actually. It was like some sort of warped ritual for him at that point. In the near-two days since that phone call to Doctor D, he'd hardly done anything else.

Van lay across Fiona's still-unmade bed, staring bleakly at the ceiling. The place brought him comfort, of a sort. Zeke had looked at him questioningly the first time, but the silver organoid was, apparently, used to it at this point. He didn't really make a sound at all, not anymore.

It still smelled like her.

Van sighed and whimsically raised a hand, as if trying to snatch the ceiling. Through his fingers, cheerful morning light dappled the ceiling and far wall. He stared at it for a moment, then let his hand flop back to the rumpled sheets.

He inhaled deeply and rolled over, burying his face into his arms and the pillows. After a moment, he mumbled to himself, "I wonder..." He swallowed. "I wonder if..." He didn't get to finish his thought, as the jangling ring of the phone jerked him from his reverie.

Groaning, Van rolled off the bed and staggered out to the kitchen, bracing himself against the head rush. The phone was practically rattling off the hook, and he reluctantly grabbed it. "Yeah?"

"Van, how many times do I have to tell you _not_ to answer like that?"

Great. Doctor D. He sighed. "What do you want me to do?"

"Now, now, don't think that every time I call you I want something from you," he scolded. Then, "But...could you come down to Inea?"

Van rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll be right there."

As he moved to hang up, D asked, "Do you want me to send up a transport?"

Van clipped, "No, I'll walk." Then he hung up, most likely on top of one of the Doctor's sarcastic comments.

He took a quick look at the listless Zeke, but couldn't do anything but give him a hesitant pat on the neck. The organoid didn't respond. He remained curled up in his sad little silver ball, his crimson eyes dimly glinting. Van shook his head and started for the door.

The wide streets of Guygalos were lit with golden sunlight, and the beautiful day had lured many of the citizens from their homes. The streets within the south part of the city were practically deserted, but the dull roar of vehicles was heavy on the north end, by the palace.

Van stuffed his hands in his pockets and started the fifteen-minute walk, feeling heavy-hearted. The day was wasted on him, despite the fact that it could be one of the last truly comfortable ones before real summer set in. Guygalos was infamous for its summers that made anyone who lived there want to kill and maim and cry bloody tears. Many of its inhabitants chose to summer in the Republic, known for its more temperate climate.

But...as far as Van was concerned, it could have been dumping buckets of rain. He saw mothers herding their laughing children into cafés and various boutiques, and marveled at how they still had the ability to laugh. Especially with the worsening situation concerning the zoids and their disappearance. He shook his head and walked on.

The guard at Inea knew him on sight and saluted, opening the door. Van nodded at him and headed to the computer room. Doctor D practically _lived_ in computer rooms, especially the ones in the bigger bases.

As predicted, D was hunched in a swivel chair, talking loudly to one of his computers. Hermann stood nearby, a hard expression on his face and his arms crossed. Van went to stand beside him, and they traded glances before staring at Doctor D.

Who was not, in fact, yelling at a computer. He was yelling at Thomas, over a comm. link. Or, rather, they were yelling at each other.

"Thomas, I don't think that's even _possible!_"

"It is! It's the only solution possible, considering the evidence. It _has_ to be right!"

Van murmured to Hermann, "What are they talking about?"

Hermann, for a man of his stature, looked lost. "I have no idea. This started about ten minutes ago, and it seems that they haven't really...gotten anywhere." He shook his head. Van raised his eyebrows and returned his gaze to the old man, who seemed to have calmed down a bit.

"Thomas, we don't even have enough information about the _natural_ organoids to draw such a conclusion, let alone an A.I."

"But _why not?_ Beke is a simpler system than Zeke is, and _I know how he works._ Please just trust me on this."

Doctor D sighed and folded his hands. "Okay. Fine. But could you just run that by me again? The whole thing?"

Thomas's voice brightened. "Sure thing. Okay. As our records indicate, the only zoids that did not run off are my Di-Bison, Zeke, and presumably the other organoids." Doctor D nodded wearily. "The reason why the Bison didn't leave was previously unknown, but after I have examined it, I found the cause to be Beke, my artificial organoid, and his ability to handicap the core's activity."

Van blurted a soft, "What?" but neither Hermann nor Doctor D paid him any attention, their attention on Thomas.

"Beke had managed to keep the zoid in line, but the batteries were worn down very quickly because of that. To run Beke continuously, he will need a tremendous energy source. But we'll deal with that later." Van could practically hear the grin that must have been stretching across the Guardian's face.

Doctor D nodded, finally saying, "Okay. Not that I totally agree with your theory, but I would like for you to come down here so that we can run some more tests."

"Got it. I'll be there in a little while–it could be tomorrow, with Beke eating batteries like this." A beep and a hiss ended the conversation as Thomas signed off.

Doctor D turned wearily, and caught sight of Van. "Oh, there you are. How much of that did you catch?"

Van shrugged. "Enough, I guess. Was there anything else other than Beke keeping the Di-Bison under control?"

"No, not really. But this does mean," he looked ready to burst into song, "that I get to run some _tests!_" He took another look a Van. "Say, do you think you could bring Zeke in so I could–"

Hermann cleared his throat.

Doctor D jumped, and then twirled the chair around to face the colonel. "With, ah, your permission first, sir, of course."

Hermann looked irritated. "Yeah, sure, just don't do anything to wreck my base, okay?" He turned and strode purposefully out of the room without really waiting for an answer.

Doctor D nodded cheerfully after him, and then turned back to Van. "So, what do you think? Would Zeke mind?"

Van shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't think so...but he isn't looking too hot right now. I don't think he'd be up to many tests." He shrugged. "Maybe he'll get better, I don't know."

Doctor D frowned. "That's odd...how long has he been like this?"

Van scowled. "Since about one o'clock yesterday morning," he looked meaningfully at D, "if you know what I mean."

"Oh."

"Yeah." After an awkward silence, he said, "Is there anything else you need?"

"Uh...no, I don't think so. You can go on back home if you want."

Doctor D stared after his retreating back for a moment, then muttered to himself, "I need to give him something to do. Anything to keep him busy." Shaking his head, he went back to his computers, preparing for Thomas's arrival.

-

As dusk fell over Guygalos, Van sat on his apartment's balcony, leaning on his crossed arms. The Central Range was just barely visible, the sun sinking slowly behind it. The moons had already risen, pale, golden ghosts hanging in the sky. A cool breeze wafted down, ruffling his hair.

Van buried his face in his arms, thinking. _She's gone. She's gone, and Zeke is sick. Zeke's sick, and I don't know what to do for him, because she was the only one that could truly understand him._

Somehow, it was the last part that hurt the most.

He stood to go inside, but then paused as his gaze caught the sky and the first star of the night. As he watched, it seemed that more and more stars appeared, until full night had fallen, and the sky was full of twinkling pinpoints of light. He shook his head and went inside, shutting the door behind him.

The apartment was almost totally dark, faint twilight casting even fainter shadows onto the carpet. Zeke lay still, like a piece of furniture. Van sat down heavily and leaned against him, the warm metal comforting in its own special way.

"Hey, Zeke?"

No soft growl answered him, not even a whine.

"We're in a bad way, buddy. Both of us."

At this, a grunt did reverberate through the organoid's body, almost in agreement.

Van sighed and stood after a moment, and patted Zeke. "I'm going to bed. Just, uh...roar if you need anything, okay?" With that, he turned and walked to his room and shut the door. Pulling off his shirt, he collapsed onto his sheets, exhausted, and almost immediately drifted off to sleep, his body spent.

-

It was the sudden feeling of presence in the room that startled Van, way too early in the morning. He shot up in his bed, eyes darting futilely in the dark. There was only empty calm; it was silent enough to drive someone mad, that horrible quiet that made you hear a shrill ringing, whether it really existed or not. He had almost convinced himself to go back to sleep when it came: the soft rustling that betrayed another's presence in the pitch black.

Gasping, he ducked down, fumbling for his handleblade. Just as his fingers brushed it, a soft whisper made him freeze.

"Van."

He choked. "F-Fiona?" He squinted, but could discern nothing but darkness. Suddenly, he felt very alone and lost. "Is that...you?"

A giggle. "You really are night-blind, aren't you?"

Van felt his breathing quicken. "Fiona." He smiled in drained relief, running a hand over his eyes. She really was there with him. It had been a dream. Nothing had changed. In his sudden release of tension, he heard himself say, "I don't have much night-vision...I've never had to see in the dark."

A soft creak betrayed a slight pressure at the end of his bed. "What if you had to?" Her soft voice had the undertone of laughter to it.

"I don't."

"But what if you had to?"

His sleep-fuzzed mind stumbling behind her words, Van said, "Why would I have to?"

Somehow, her voice seemed closer. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. "Because. Maybe you have to see something. Something else. Maybe you _need_ something else. Something that you can't see otherwise."

Van thought for a moment. "I-I don't think that I need anything else." He paused, then said quickly, "I think that as long...as long as I have y-you, Fiona...then I'm happy." He felt himself blush, and briefly wondered about _her_ night-vision.

She laughed softly, and edged a little closer. "Van, you're sweet. But..." Closer. Much closer than before. He could feel the heat from her skin, could practically pick out her form in the darkness. "But Van," he felt her breath next to his ear, and goose bumps rose slowly on his flesh. "What if you _could_ see..." Her voice was suddenly quieter. "...And no one was there?"

Then she was gone.

Van's eyes shot open, and he half-rose unsteadily from the bed. No one was there, the same way it had been when he'd gone to sleep. He took a shuddering breath and turned his gaze outside. It had to have been morning...but dawn was nowhere to be found. Maybe tomorrow would never come. Maybe the world had died without him realizing it. Sighing, he rubbed his temples and slowly laid back down to the cooled sheets of his bed, trying his hardest to shake the too-real dream from his mind.

_It wasn't real...Fiona's gone._

_She's gone. _

_I lost her._


	5. Pentacle III

**The Second Renaissance**

**Part Two: Pentacle**

**III. Shine**

_If you need to leave the world you live in,  
Lay your head down and stay awhile;  
Though you may not remember dreaming,  
Something waits for you breathe again..._

_ -Evanescence, _Imaginary (Origin)

-

Van's fingers trailed along centuries-old dust, faint markings marring the surface of a thick coat of sandy grit. His scuffing steps echoed through the huge hall, sunlight streaming in between the supporting columns. Golden motes of disturbed dust danced in the bright beams of light, making the ruins seem to be a silent wonderland, irreparably separated from the city of Guygalos, bustling below. The shadow of the Imperial palace loomed to the north.

The separated effect was suddenly amplified as the corridor opened into an overgrown courtyard, tropical vegetation spilling over the stone walls and creeping along the lush ground. Bright birds flitted from invisible holes in the stone, twittering shrilly, and equally bright flowers opened soft faces to greet them. Van stood still for a moment, letting his eyes trail over the greenery, and then stopped at the sight of a tucked-away corner, littered with bright markers, amid flowering vines that threatened to bury them.

He sighed and shook off other, much older memories of similar ancient sites, and started over to the area, disturbing bright clouds of pollen and digging in his pocket for the papers he knew to be there. Doctor D himself had shoved them onto him, claiming he needed to search for "clues," like some old, bad mystery vid. He strongly suspected that it was a bad excuse to get him out of the base.

The wide corner looked nonchalant enough, no different from the rest of the quad, other than the markers. He felt like an intruder on creation, marring the surface of these sepulcher-like grounds. Nevertheless, he pulled the crudely folded file from his back pocket and hesitantly cleared his throat. In a low voice, he began to read aloud.

"Kenia: family of four." _Two children._

"Found dead approximately 120 hours ago." _Murdered._ "In the, uh, Ista ruins." _This very place._

"Cause of death...rogue zoid." Van raised his troubled gaze to that same corner of the courtyard again. He studied the ground, as though he might see the impressions of the nameless zoid's footsteps on the lush grasses; see human blood spilled mercilessly to stain the lily-white flowers littering the ground. The joyous warbling of nesting birds faded away to screams of terror and pain, in grief of a slain loved one, cries to any savior that may exist...

The faint and obnoxious blare of a car horn jerked Van from his thoughts, and he drew his unfocused gaze to the open archways of the nearby hall. With grim surprise, he realized that traffic was being held up by the last tame zoid on the planet.

His eyes still dark with emotional pain, Van muttered, "He's here." Shaking his head, he stuffed the tragic file back into his pocket and started back the way he'd come. Doctor D was expecting Zeke in for tests, and this was going nowhere fast.

-

Moving Zeke down to the base proved to be more easily said than done. When Van found him, he was still curled, motionless, on the floor of the apartment, indifferent to the world. He may as well have been a rock.

Van stared at him a moment, then nudged him with his foot. "Hey, Zeke?"

No response.

A harder nudge, this time. "Zeke. Get up."

The organoid's scarlet optic lens glittered briefly, but then it went dark again.

Van's eyebrows shot down, and he growled, "Zeke. Enough of this. I mean it. Get. Up. Now." When even this didn't elicit a response, he drew back his foot, ready to do whatever was necessary to get the mourning zoid to rise.

As Van's foot came within a few inches of Zeke's side, the organoid suddenly hissed in a very un-Zeke-like way. Van froze, his boot in midair, and cracked a grin at the sight of Zeke begrudgingly dragging himself to his feet. "Come on, buddy, let's go."

Ten minutes later, Van was walking backwards down the sidewalk, coaxing Zeke along. The organoid silently followed his master's hands, which always hovered about a foot from his snout. Step by slow step, they made their way down the sunny streets of Guygalos. Van never took his eyes from Zeke's, not noticing any stares they received. The important thing was that he was moving, at least. It was, perhaps, the first time in almost four days.

Long before Van turned to catch sight of Inea base, the shadow of the Di-Bison fell across him. The unnatural shade startled Zeke into shooting his head up from its listless posture to stare intently at the zoid, which was parked outside an open hangar. Van paused and followed his gaze, taking in the gleaming metal plates, the orange glass of the canopy, glittering in the afternoon sun...he sighed, patting Zeke on the neck.

"I know, Zeke. I know." He applied slight pressure to the organoid's neck, guiding him away from the Di-Bison and into the huge hangar. As they passed the zoid, though, he couldn't help but notice that intense heat still radiated from its hooves. Thomas hadn't been in Guygalos long. Van grimaced. _I miss the Liger..._

The hangar was full to bursting with technicians, all of whom seemed eager for something to do. The Di-Bison was not short on attention–that was for sure. The smell of grease and, oddly enough, electricity, pervaded the overly warm air.

Doctor D met them just inside the door, his long silver hair bouncing as he jogged up. "You're late!"

"Don't care."

D scowled at him. "Just shut up, would you? We were expecting you almost an hour ago."

Van rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Doctor D ignored his insolence and turned to scan the crowd of technicians. Apparently spying the one he needed, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Lana! He's finally here!" One of his female assistants waved back, and jogged over, a collar in hand.

His bad mood temporarily forgotten, Van blinked. "Hey, wait, is that for–"

"Zeke?" D shot him an odd glance. "Well, yeah, what else would we use?" It seemed logical enough...but he felt a pang of uneasiness.

Lana stopped in front of D, and her dark hair swished attractively over her shoulder. She gave the Doctor a smile. "Should I take him on down to our lab?" Doctor D nodded, and she unclipped the collar. "I'll be back up here after I do," she explained over her shoulder.

Van watched, hardly breathing, as she slowly encircled her arms around Zeke's thick neck and refastened the collar. Zeke was motionless and cooperative, and followed the woman when she tugged gently on the leash attached to the collar. He gave his master a glance, but Van just waved. "See you in a little bit, buddy."

He and Doctor D watched Lana and Zeke go for a moment, but the old man finally turned to him. "See? Zeke's going to be fine. There's nothing to be worried about."

Van shrugged. "I guess. I'm not worried."

"Liar. Of course you are."

Van turned to see Thomas, and scowled. "You didn't _have_ to come, you know. We were perfectly fine here without you." With that, he turned and stalked darkly away.

D sighed, watching him go, and then turned to Thomas, whose teeth were grinding audibly. "Don't go after him."

He looked surprised. "Why not?"

The Doctor shook his head ruefully and started back to the control panel for the Bison's systems. Thomas trailed behind. "Because. Nothing good would come of it, and he's just under a lot of stress. That, and he's more immature than you are, et cetera." He darted another glance to Thomas's face. "So...don't. Besides, I still need you here." He gestured at the computer screen in front of them.

The lieutenant shrugged, bringing up a visual representation of the Di-Bison's power supply. "Fine, but he does need some tough love, don't you think?"

D ogled the diagram for a minute, and then asked, "How much of that is supported by Beke?" He shook his head. "And no, I think he just needs to get over it. It's all because of Fiona, you know that?"

"Right now? Approximately...85 percent, give or take a bit. See, Beke has to keep the zoid from getting up and leaving. My batteries were almost totally fried when I got here two hours ago." He cracked a smile. "Of _course_ it's about Fiona. She usually checks him–so now he's a loose wire without her."

D gave him a curious look. "Speaking of which, aren't _you_ worried about her?"

Thomas shrugged. "Not really." D gaped at him. "Well, I mean, she's, ah, left before. Remember the whole 'turning into light' thing? She came back then, and I trust that she'll come back this time."

D thought for a moment. "That's true. I hadn't thought about it like that." Finally, he just shook his head. "I hope you're right."

"Me, too."

-

Contrary to Doctor D's well-meaning advice, Thomas did seek Van out, eventually. Brooding wasn't healthy, after all. He eventually found him in a spare computer room. All the screens were dark, and Van was staring blankly at a map of the Western Continent, as if he was waiting for something to jump out as an answer.

Thomas leaned against the doorframe and waited. When he went unnoticed for half a minute, he cleared his throat. Van's head shot up, but then his eyebrows went back down at the sight of his partner.

"What do _you_ want?"

Thomas gritted his teeth, remembering Doctor D's words. _He's under stress...more immature..._ "Just...coming to see what you were doing, is all."

Van eyed him, laying his arms across the map in what seemed like an attempt to hide it. "It's nothing."

Thomas sighed. "Are you going to look for her?"

"No." Van's eyes betrayed him.

Thomas gave him a worried look. "Van, you'll probably have to narrow down your search a bit more than the entire _continent._ Fiona could be anywhere."

"Yeah? I don't see you looking."

"You're being selfish! We're probably going to have an entire _war_ on our hands–the humans against the zoids. We're not going to stand a chance unless everyone helps."

Van looked scandalized. "So, what? Fiona isn't important anymore?"

Thomas sighed in exasperation. "Of course she is, but if we don't win this war, then you won't be around to look for her at all!"

Van looked coldly at him. "I don't care. We need her, and I will find her."

Finally, Thomas snapped. It was too much–Van's stubborn resistance, his insistent desire to stay in his own little idealistic world. "You don't _care?_ You _have_ to care, Van! And Fiona? She could be _dead_, did you think about that!"

Van froze. The silence stretched out between them, becoming deafening. Finally, he gave Thomas a look that was probably previously reserved only for Raven. On the receiving end of this expression, he realized that he had probably said very much the wrong thing.

-

Doctor D looked irritably at Van. At the moment, he needed a formal report, and the lieutenant looked like he would rather be scrubbing the mess hall. Of _course_ Thomas wouldn't listen to his helpful advice, and of _course_ his temper would get the better of him. It was Murphy's Law: if something could go wrong, it most definitely would. And it had.

"Are we done yet?" He met Van's insolent gaze, and felt the abrupt urge to strangle the boy. _No...it is just beginning. Unfortunately._

D finally collected his thought, and managed to look gravely at Van, who seemed quite apathetic. "Please, Van, we have to know this stuff."

"Know _what,_ exactly?"

He sighed. "The way Fiona..._left_," he ignored Van's wince, "was definitely not natural. We need more information so that we can find out what, exactly, happened."

Van narrowed his eyes. "I don't really think that she could tell me much right before it happened."

After a long moment, D prompted, "Why not?"

Van stood sharply, slamming his hands onto the desk. "Because she was _drugged up_," he growled through clenched teeth.

The old man sighed, burying his head in his hands. "Van, _please_ calm down. I really mean it. Fiona's a bright girl. I think that she would have been able to keep her presence of mind through that–_astonishingly_ large–dose of morphine." He raised his eyes. "Am I right?"

Van clenched his teeth, glaring grey daggers at the old man. Doctor D matched his scowl almost perfectly, and, after a moment, Van sank back into his seat, his interlocked fingers supporting his chin. He started harshly, hesitantly, "She...she kept saying...that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Over and over again. Kept asking that I not leave her alone. But..." He relaxed, and lowered his head to rest against the desk. "I did anyway. I thought she was still sick."

After a quiet pause, he added miserably, "I'm an idiot."

Doctor D stared at the young lieutenant sadly. "Van, you're not an idiot," he began. _Very close, but not quite. _"You thought the exact same thing anyone else would have. There isn't any blame to pass around. You can't...blame yourself for something no one could have predicted."

At this, Van stiffened, and his head shot back up as he cried, "No, you don't understand! I'm _supposed_ to be able to predict them! I've lived with Fiona for over a year–it's _my job._" His shoulders sagged. "She'd been acting strangely for so long...and I didn't think enough of it to say anything." He looked at D brokenly. "Can you understand that?"

D cocked his head to one side, sighing heavily. "I think...maybe I do, on a smaller scale. And yes, it is hard...but could you please not take it out on _Thomas,_ of all people? We need to keep what is left of the Guardian Force intact."

Van managed a weak smile. "Sorry about that."

Doctor D watched him for another moment, and then said, "I think that it would really help if you...found something to occupy your time. You just need to get your mind off things. So," he stood, "do something. I don't really care what. Anything."

-

_Anything._ Doctor D's words looping in his mind, Van hoisted himself over the stone ledge of the roof of Inea Base. He stole a dizzying glance back down the metal rungs of the ladder, but then shook his head and stumbled a safe fifteen feet away from the edge. He sat down heavily and stared out over Guygalos. From his present vantage point, the city was laid out neatly before him, and even the Palace looked close enough to touch.

Van's gaze crept up the ornate walls of the building, and eventually, his eyes just met undiluted sky. It was a clear, bright blue that remained unmarred by clouds. It drew his gaze up and up, until he finally flopped backwards to lie spread-eagled on the asphalt. He dug around on his belt a moment, and his left hand emerged his military-issued revolver. It was still shiny from disuse. Slowly, Van drew his arm up to point straight up at the clear sky.

Van's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he pulled the trigger. The sharp crack that tore the air was oddly satisfying. He emptied the clip into the blue deep, and then let the revolver drop with a clatter to the asphalt. He sighed, closing his eyes, and sank into the heat, feeling its pressure on his chest. He lay there for a few more minutes in the pure sunlight, until the scrape of a footstep came from behind him.

"That was productive."

Without opening his eyes, he muttered, "I thought so." After another moment, he rolled over and opened his eyes to see Thomas crouching behind him, his chin in hand. "How long have you been there?"

Thomas cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. "Long enough to see your assassination attempt on the sky."

Van nodded, resting his chin on his arms. It was nice to see that Thomas was still speaking to him...though he had obviously waited until all the bullets had been used up before saying a word.

After a quiet moment, Thomas spoke again. "I'm sorry about what I said."

Van closed his eyes. "I know. So am I. I think...it's probably just...everything, you know?"

Thomas sat down heavily beside him. "I hate excuses." He paused. "But yes, I do understand."

Van sighed and turned his head, to rest the side of his face against his forearm. He opened one dark eye and considered the sky. "What's the plan?"

"What? Oh. Um." Thomas thought a moment. "I, uh, don't think we really have one right now. Except to wait."

"For what?"

"I dunno. For something to happen, I guess."

"That works." Van sighed again and dragged himself up. "I need to go check on Zeke. Make sure D hasn't gone overboard." He stared down at Thomas for a moment, and then extended his hand, like a silent invitation.

Thomas grinned and grabbed it, accepting just as silently.

Doctor D had claimed one of the largest open laboratories at the base, placing Zeke in the top priority. It made for a long walk to the far corner of the base, but Van and Thomas made it there in about ten minutes. The door hissed aside to reveal Doctor D, hunched over a console in front of a large glass window, and looking decidedly worried.

Van raised his eyebrows and went to stand by the old man. "What is it, Doc?"

D spared him a look, and then turned back to the scene in front of him, chewing his lip. "See for yourself. It's not...looking too good right now."

Van squinted through the glass, and his eyes took a moment to adjust. The window was made for one-way observation, and thus was heavily tinted. When he finally registered what he was seeing, though, he gasped.

Zeke and two technicians were inside, and none of them looked happy to be together. Zeke edged away from the two men, wires and cords trailing from his chest plates, like the guts of a dying animal.

"We were hooking up the sensors," Doctor D explained. "He just...stopped cooperating. Very odd." He shook his head, still muttering to himself.

Van watched for a few seconds more, and then muttered, "Call them off."

D gave him a surprised look. "What?"

"Do it." Something about Zeke's eyes...they were wrong.

"I can't do that! I need these test results."

Thomas warned, "Doctor..." But it was too late.

Zeke suddenly roared and turned sharply, his thick tail whipping through the air behind him. It caught one of the technicians at the waist, and he flew to slam into the wall. He slid to the ground to lie motionless, and blood streaked the white paint.

The other technician stared after his partner, shaken. Just as his eyes slid back over to the cornered organoid, Zeke lunged. The zoid caught the man's forearm in his jaws and clenched them tightly. The technician screamed as something crunched sickeningly, and crimson darkened his sleeve. Zeke shook his head roughly like a dog with his bone, and flung the man away. He hit the far wall cruelly, and moved no more. The organoid started over towards him, growling.

Doctor D, Thomas and Van had watched in horrified silence thus far–but Van finally moved. "I told you to call them off," he growled, whirling to race to the door. Thomas tried to grab his arm, but he shook it off and ducked inside the testing area.

Suddenly, the world was a sterile white, and the moaning technician was behind him, clutching his arm and coming to. Zeke stopped at the sight of him, a snarl growing in his throat. He looked so...wild. The blood dripping from his muzzle didn't help the illusion.

Eyes wide, Van stretched out a hand. "Hey, Zeke. Just...calm down, would you?" The organoid cocked his head to one side, considering him. It seemed like he would actually listen, but then he gave a belligerent howl, pivoting to whip his tail around.

Van yelled as it hit him across the calf-muscles, sweeping his feet neatly out from under him in a rush of pain. He hit the floor hard, and rolled. Zeke's taloned feet crashed down where his head had been seconds before. He scrambled to get up, and as if by chance, the organoid's tail clipped him across the jaw.

Cursing to himself, Van got to his feet and backed away from Zeke warily. Suddenly, rushing into the closed room with the crazed organoid didn't seem like a very intelligent idea. He darted a look to the tinted glass of the observation area, but it was hopeless. He was on his own.

His momentary loss of concentration cost him, because Zeke noticed. Roaring, the organoid charged. Van dove at the last minute, and Zeke crashed into the wall. Spidery cracks formed where he had hit. Dazed, he tottered around, searching for his opponent. Unfortunately, it seemed all his power had gone into that last charge, and smashing into the wall hadn't helped matters. Suddenly finding his legs couldn't support him, Zeke slumped against the cracked wall.

Van sidled around the fallen zoid, carefully staying out of range of his tail. Stopping at the organoid's head, he knelt and stretched out a tentative hand. When his fingers met Zeke's muzzle, the organoid relaxed with a sigh, the fight gone out of him. Van echoed his sigh, and leaned against the wall wearily.

He wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, and examined it. "Zeke, let's never do that again." The organoid groaned in reply.

Suddenly, the door to the area burst open, and Thomas stared at him, wide-eyed. "Van, what was _that?_"

Van frowned. "What was what?"

"You didn't _see _it?"

A headache pounding at his temples, Van sighed in exasperation. "I didn't see a thing, Thomas, I promise."

Thomas stared at him for a few seconds more, and then said shortly, "Come here."

"_What? _Why?"

"Just do it."

Van sighed again and patted Zeke on his head. "I'll be right back." The organoid grunted in affirmation. Van dragged himself to his feet, aches and pains becoming ever more pronounced. He limped back through the door, giving Thomas a glare on the way. Once inside, Doctor D gave him a hard look. "You didn't see it?"

"See _what?_" Van collapsed into one of the spare swivel chairs.

"Look." D brought up a video recording of the confrontation that had just taken place. Looking at it from a third-person view, Van had to admit it looked almost impressive–but mostly stupid. Such a bad idea. Zeke bashed his head against the wall, fell heavily...and there he was, stretching out his hand...

At the precise moment Van's hand touched Zeke's snout, there was a burst of light, as if a flash bulb had gone off. The video cut off. D and Thomas stared at him. Van shrugged wearily. "I don't know, maybe your cameras are malfunctioning."

"Van, I have the same thing on three different cameras. _All_ of them can't be simultaneously malfunctioning."

"Well, I don't know. I'm not sure how you're going to find out, either." Suddenly, he recognized a familiar glint in the Doc's eyes, and he groaned. "Fine. _Fine._ Run your tests."

Ten minutes later, Doctor D had attached four different sensors to Van's arms. He held two bare wires. "This is just to narrow down what we need to do," he explained, his voice cheerful. Unnervingly cheerful. "Are you ready?"

Van sighed. "Sure, why not?"

D shrugged, and touched the two wires together–

_–Paindeathhungerbloodfearpainlonelinesstorturefear–_

Van gasped, his eyes wide, and scrambled to pull the suctioned sensors from his forearms. Doctor D gave him a puzzled look, and Thomas was staring. Van tried to swallow, and almost gagged. His skin was coated in chilly sweat, and his pulse was racing.

Doctor D stammered, "Y-you mean...you _felt_ something!" Covering his face with his hand, Van nodded. He wasn't entirely sure he could talk. D went on, "Van, you weren't supposed to feel anything."

Thomas pulled the wires from the old man's fingers. "Hey, Doc? What is this metal?" It had an eerie blue sheen to it; they weren't traditional copper.

D stole a look at Van, who was the most shaken he'd ever seen. "Uh, well..." He gave Thomas a sheepish look. "Two different alloys of, um...zoid magnite." At Thomas's surprised look, he continued, "And I'm worried...because a normal human was supposed to be unaffected by that particular test. The only people who would be are..." He took a deep breath. "Reese and Fiona."

"So, what?" Van's voice was ragged. "What does that mean?"

D stared at his hands thoughtfully. "We hardly know anything about the Ancient Zoidians, seeing as how Fiona is the only cooperatively living specimen..." At Van's growl, he amended hastily, "Not that I see her as a specimen, of course."

Thomas examined the wires again. "It's gene therapy."

"It's _what?_"

He blinked. "Gene therapy." At their blank looks, he went on, "Since you, Van, have been around Fiona so much, she's...I don't know, rubbing off on you, to put it into simple terms." He shrugged. "I guess, essentially, you're part Ancient Zoidian now."

Doctor D scowled. "It's not that easy, Thomas," he snapped, snatching back the wires.

Thomas shrugged again. "I said simple terms," he replied.

D rolled his eyes, and then turned back to Van. "Was Fiona sick recently? Like, within the past year or so?"

"Last...last winter, she got the flu." He thought for a moment. "It lasted a week, maybe less." Seven months before, Guygalos has suffered a small flu epidemic, and it had almost run its course before the vaccines arrived from New Helic. Those in the most danger were young children, but there were no fatalities.

D nodded. "And then you got sick, right?"

"No."

The old man's eyes went wide. "_No?_"

Van gave a tired half-shrug. "No, not really. Fiona got better before the vaccines came, and I was never really affected."

Thomas frowned. "Influenza is a highly contagious virus. Since you and Fiona were practically quarantined together, you _had_ to have been infected. There's almost no way around it."

Van gave a sigh and another apathetic half-shrug, but D looked excited. "No, it is possible, in a roundabout sort of way. Fiona has always had a strange sort of constitution...I'm surprised that she got sick at all." Thomas raised an eyebrow at him. "She came from a different time, her immunities have to be for a different time's diseases–so stop giving me that look, Thomas."

The old man closed his eyes in thought. "When Fiona had the flu, I wouldn't be surprised if her body accidentally..._modified_ it, having never encountered anything of the sort before. And then..." he opened his eyes and glanced at Van. "She passed the new virus on to you. Except, it wouldn't affect you the way it did her, because you're human. So I guess, technically speaking, you have an incurable virus. An Ancient Zoidian virus. Oh, that's fascinating."

Van gave the Doctor a weary look. The old man's eyes were unfocused, and he seemed mesmerized by something on the wall. Shaking his head, Van pushed himself up and stumbled out the door, muttering something over his shoulder about being back for Zeke later.

-

It was as thunderheads rolled into the capitol around nightfall that Thomas found Van in front of one of the huge sets of bay windows at the base, leaning on the support railing in front of them. The younger lieutenant stared out at the flashing lightning, as if he was hypnotized by the dazzling bursts of neon light.

Thomas approached quietly, and his gaze was similarly drawn to the storm. Eerie and silent, the lightning danced across the horizon against a backdrop of deep violet clouds. Low rumbles of thunder echoed across the plain, a sound that seemed unearthly.

Van startled him by suddenly murmuring, "It's blowing in from the north." Finally breaking his stare with the tempest, he turned his gaze to Thomas. "Some legends say that's a bad omen."

Thomas shrugged. "It's a little late then, isn't it? Because I don't think it can get much worse." Thunder boomed again, this time louder, and Thomas jerked unconsciously.

"It's just thunder." Van gave him a shallow grin, his features briefly lit by another flash of lightning.

Thomas shook his head. "I guess. I always hated it as a kid. Too loud, and the lightning shorted out my computers." He leaned against the wall beside Van, and they sat in silence for a moment.

Finally, Thomas started, "I wonder–" There came a gigantic clap of thunder, as if the very heavens were ripping apart at the seams. He jumped again, and then took a deep breath, trying to calm his pulse.

Van shook his head, snorting with laughter. Lightning flashed again, closer this time. After it finally faded, he said, "You were saying?"

Thomas fell quiet, but then dismissed himself with a shake of his head. "No, it was nothing."

"Thinking about her again?"

Thomas sighed deeply and swallowed. "Fiona? Yeah. And...I don't know–can you...feel anything?"

Rain started to pour down in torrents, almost like a wall of water, just inches away. The landscape turned a dark grey, almost opaque. The air filled quickly with the scent of a much-needed rain–the smell of life.

After a long moment of silence, Van blinked, his eyes hardening. Finally, he gave a strained laugh that almost turned into a moan. "No. That figures. I wish I could, though. I want to."

Thomas followed his absent gaze, and nodded. "I think we all do."

-

Fiona awoke groggily, confused and lost. She was sprawled on what seemed to be a small stone rise, but it was hard to tell. Darkness closed in on all sides, blocking her view of anything that lay beyond her little rock.

Her sling, for some reason or another, was gone; she clutched her left wrist to her chest, having no interest in breaking it again. The memory the pain that had come with that particular battle wound was still all too fresh in her mind.

She doubtfully scanned her surroundings, and cleared her throat, murmuring, "A dream. It has to be." Her soft words reverberated out and away in a prolonged echo. Finally, silence replaced it, pressing in deafeningly. But then it came.

**You are not asleep, little one.**

Sunset eyes grew wide, and she remembered.

_Will you?_

_ "Yes..."_

"Oh. Oh, no." Fiona's stomach lurched, and she drew her knees in to her chest, trying with all her might to deny the truth that was slapping her in the face. "No. No, no, no."

**You came because we asked you to.**

She choked back a sob. Her dreams...no, her nightmares...were real. Her breathing harsh, Fiona clenched her teeth and banged her head against her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered tearfully, "Please, someone help me. Van...Thomas..._please_..."

**You came to lead us.**

At this, her head shot back up and she cried frantically, "No! No...I can't!" Fiona's hand leapt to her face, covering her eyes, trying to block it out.

That voice crept tentatively into her mind, murmuring, **But we want _you_. _You_ are the one, the one we need.**

The girl sank her head back to her knees, feeling cold stone shock her skin, raising goose bumps. She was silent a long time, hidden behind her one good hand. Finally, she whispered, "Why? Why me?"

**Because you love us.** The voice swelled with invisible pride.

Fiona raised her head, tears making cold tracks down her face. "What?"

**You are an ancient. You understand us. You could not kill the Mother before, because it would destroy us. You love us.** From the darkness, a soft growl rebounded, and she jumped fearfully, darting her gaze around. **Do not fear us,** it whispered. A shape emerged from the shadows, accompanied by dully clanking steps, and she slowly relaxed, realizing it was more familiar than she had at first thought.

A huge, rounded silver head...gigantic, club-like paws...blue glass winking out at her...it was a Helcat. The zoid knelt beside her, stretching out its head heavily. Fiona swallowed hard, and extended a shaking hand, trembling fingers meeting the metal, expecting a bone-chilling cold. Instead, it was comfortably warm, a soft, shimmering heat. She sighed as the warmth soaked into her hand, streaking up her arm, down her waist, and reaching to her toes. It enveloped her body in a reassuring embrace.

**Come,** it whispered. The Helcat stood and slipped off into the darkness, its strangely muted footsteps the only sign it was still close by. Fiona turned and began to follow, forgetting that she was barefoot, that her hair fell knotted down her back, that her left arm hung uselessly at her side. Squinting, she still saw the dull silver sheen of the Helcat, and could only follow. Outside of that small alley, metallic rustling and soft growls echoed, testimony to the audience she had elicited.

The Helcat's spell broken briefly, the girl turned and stared in awe, choking out, "Th-they're all here? All of the zoids are here?"

** They are all here for you. We have been waiting–for you.**

"Me." It wasn't a statement or a question. Just a single utterance, sighed out as she felt the true meaning of it all. She stared, dazzled by the dim metallic glimmers that peeked from the darkness, the hisses and growls that spoke to her, a lost language that she barely remembered.

An insistent whisper at her ear urged, **You must come, quickly. If you wish to help all of them, then act now.**

Mesmerized, she nodded absently. "Yes. Yes, lead me." She turned to face the halted zoid.

The voice chuckled. **No, no...that's your job. We are merely your followers.** Nonetheless, the Helcat turned and stalked off, Fiona walking diligently in its footsteps.

In the back of her mind, the girl could hear a small voice wailing away, protesting this. _No, it's wrong, why am I doing this! They are the enemy, the enemy that Van and Thomas are fighting against! No, no, it's not my place, turn back now..._

A calmer, more rational-sounding voice pushed the first away, arguing, _They want me. They _need_ me. I need them. It' s my duty..._ And then they were there, and Fiona's breath caught in her throat, all inner turmoil forgotten.

The Helcat bowed away, leaving her alone in what seemed to be endless darkness. Endless darkness, all but the single glow in the center. It was a small light, blue-silver, glimmering in a shifting aura of evanescence. She stumbled toward it, her eyes huge, turned the color of thunderstorms in the unnatural light. She stared at the light, almost heartbroken–it was all that was left of the Zoid Eve, eroding away in this necropolis of a lost world.

The girl tossed her gaze upward, almost disbelieving. The inner pillars of Evopolis stretched up above her into darkness, the visible ground littered with rubble left over from the destruction of the great city. Comprehension dawned in her mind, and suddenly, she felt very, very small.

The voice nudged at her mind, bringing her attention back to the shifting light in front of her. **Reach out to her. Accept her. For us.**

Tears shone in Fiona's eyes. "Of course." Without hesitation, she stretched out her hand, entering it into the light. There was substance under that light, she realized dimly. It felt like the Helcat's metal hide had–warm. Comfortably warm. She felt a touch at her mind, soft and silky smooth and achingly familiar. She closed her eyes and laid her mind open to all.

Her eyes shot back open as the power, the power that she had resisted for so long, rushed forward, into her veins, through her body, a jolt that was both electrical and divine. It was almost too much; she could feel it corroding her senses like acid, only vaguely letting her register pain. All color drained from her, leaving a shell. The pigments in her hair, skin, eyes, clothing...all gone, soaked into the power. Her eyes were just empty white windows, her skin blank. The fabric of her clothing, once bright, faded to nothing and ripped slowly. Her gloves disintegrated away, leaving her bare arms; her sleeves slumped down around her shoulders.

Then her senses weren't dulled anymore–it was that same old familiar pain, experienced first in her dreams. Her blood seemed to turn into razor-sharp crystals, swirling through her veins, and shredding her body from the inside out. Through the deafening roar that grew steadily in her ears, Fiona realized that maybe, just maybe, she was going to die. Reaching that revelation, she gritted her teeth and grabbed for her last reserves of strength. Her will to live overpowered all her other senses, burning away fatigue, doubt, and any other weakness it found.

It was as her hair started to sizzle that she somehow gained control, harnessing the power in time to save the last vestiges of color left, a faint shadow of what she had once looked like. Instead of draining, the potent rush instead charged, healing her broken wrist in second, the bone setting and knitting together. Her scrapes and bruises faded away, as if they were months old, instead of mere days. Her muscles relaxed, tension and aches melting away. Her body felt new, energized, even strong. A bleached phoenix bathed in raw light, she felt born again. Which, essentially, she was.

A glow of energy swirled around her feet, which hovered a few inches from the stone floor. She took a deep breath, inhaling oxygen charged by her acceptance of the power–the power of Eve. She could still hear that voice as it faded away, subdued by her power, whispering, **You did it. You took her within you. You are one now. Our new mother. Rejoice...rejoice, for...**

Tasting the power in her mouth, she finished, **"For a new age...has begun."** A terrifying chorus of shrieking roars met this proclamation, and Fiona's colorless lips curved in a satisfied smile.

-

In a small city that served as a neighboring branch of New Helic City, Reese suddenly awoke with a start. Dawn's fingers were just beginning to creep along the walls, tingeing them a rosy pink. Her turquoise eyes narrowing nervously, she brought a shaky hand to her forehead, brushing away stray tendrils of cerulean hair that clung to her sweaty skin. _What was that? Something's–_

**_For a new age...has begun._**

The Zoidian screamed in agony as a searing fire raced across her mind, and she writhed in pain on her bed, clutching at her head, her frantic fingers becoming intertwined with her tangled hair. Her legs kicked convulsively, successfully twisting the sheets tightly around her feet. Tears coursed down her pale cheeks, and her back arched involuntarily, trying anything to cope with the pain.

Suddenly, it was gone, leaving her spent and panting, entangled in her bed sheets. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, her mind raw, feeling almost burned. Slowly, the sweat cooled and dried, but she took no notice, still gulping for air. Finally, she took one last shaky breath, sitting up. She ran a trembling hand through her hair, leaving ruffled blue spikes in its wake. Slowly, she whispered, "No, what...what...Fiona, you..."

In a sudden rush of fury, she bared her teeth, snatching the water glass beside her bed, and hurled it at the wall. As the glass shattered deafeningly, showering the carpet with water and glittering crystals, her face contorted in rage and she screamed, "No, you fool, what have you _done!_"


	6. Salva Nos I

**

* * *

**_And so the angst finally, finally, comes to a slowing descent. Mostly, anyway. Almost alla the angst is contained in Pentacle...because everyone's favorite Zoidian comes in to make everyone look stupid. Heh. __No, really, though, Reese is badass--don't hate her till you read this story's version of her. She's fun. Same goes for Thomas, because he's a major factor in here. Bashers make him cry. _

_-plink- Okay. According to this complicated theory of mine (the kinks of which are still being beaten out), the last batch o' bad guys couldn't have done what Fiona did--it could only be her, and only after the big war. The latter is more easily explained, though: at the end of the series, there was an ultimatum, supposedly. Destroy Eve or revive Eve? Both had their big downsides, of course--but neither really happened. The last we see of Eve is the statue sinking. So, according to me, the Eveness was slowly dying, which is why the zoids went crazy, and why Fiona started getting her little bad dreams. Make sense? Hope so._

_-Blue Flyhight- Um. Just wait till next chapter, k? Except for Moonbay. She isn't even mentioned until the very last. _

* * *

**The Second Renaissance**

**Part Three: Salva Nos**

**-**

**I. Wraith**

_"...And now tell me this. You witches know something about the child Lyra. I nearly learned it from one of your sisters, but she died before I could complete the torture. Well, there is no one to save you now. Tell me the truth about my daughter."_

_Lena__ Feldt gasped, "She will be the mother–she will be life–mother–she will disobey–she will–"_

_"Name her! You are saying everything but the most important thing! Name her!" cried Mrs. Coulter._

_"Eve! Mother of all! Eve, again! Mother Eve!" stammered __Lena__ Feldt, sobbing._

_-Philip Pullman, _The Subtle Knife

_-_

Nothing could have prepared Van for what happened that early summer morning. Certainly not the unobtrusive knock that come on his door at about noon. He was worn out after running back and forth from the base for Doctor D, woken at odd hours of the night to do similarly odd jobs. Thus, he was tired. Exhausted, even. He actually had a coffee mug raised to his lips as he swung the front door open, hoping that he would be able to shut it again very soon and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, it wasn't just a salesperson trying to force insurance on him, or an overly-friendly neighbor come to visit.

It was Reese.

Van stared at her in disbelief, his coffee forgotten. The girl was standing right there on his doorstep, wearing a pretty floral-print skirt that ended just above her knees and a blouse, looking for as if she was out on a shopping trip. She carried nothing, but just stood there, startled. She just looked so...so _normal._

There was a very long moment of silent staring, until Reese finally narrowed her eyes in a way that Van acutely remembered as being dangerous. "Well?"

Under her glare, Van jumped a little, stammering, "Uh, well what?"

She gave him a disgusted look. "Well, are you going to let me in, or just stare at me?" Same old Reese.

Van leaned against the doorframe, fully recovered and matching her glare. "Why are you here, Reese? What do you want?"

The girl gave him a look that clearly stated the fact that she thought he was the stupidest thing on the planet. Van didn't let it faze him, and stolidly blocked the door. He was used to it; Reese never liked him much. Flat-out _hated_ him, in fact. It seemed like nothing had changed, after all.

Finally, she gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine, I need to talk to Fiona. She...she did something."

Van's expression hardened and he turned to go back inside. "Then you're out of luck."

"What do you mean?"

Over his shoulder, Van muttered, "Fiona isn't here. She's gone." With that, he shut the door in Reese's face, walking back to the kitchen for fresher coffee.

Not ten seconds later, the pounding started again. He didn't move, and just stared at the door. After a minute, Reese yelled, "What do you mean, she's _gone?_"

No answer. Growling in frustration, Reese raised her fist, ready to knock the stupid door _down_ if she had to...and then it opened again, nearly throwing her off balance and costing her dignity. She recovered, though, and glared belligerently at a weary-looking Van. "Where is she?"

He sighed, and turned around, leaving the door open this time. "I don't know."

Reese followed him gingerly, and shut the door behind her. She tried to get a good look at her new surroundings without looking like she really cared, but didn't succeed. The apartment was huge, practically a house unto itself. Van retreated to the open kitchen and his coffee mug, leaving her to trail behind. Hesitantly, she sat down beside him, letting the silence stretch out between them as he stared moodily at his coffee.

Finally, she said, "What happened?" The edge was gone from her voice.

"I don't know. She was just gone."

Reese blinked. "Oh." That was all there was to say. Oh. That didn't seem very good. Fiona was just gone. She didn't leave. She just...wasn't. It did, however, mean that the girl hadn't really _chosen_ to... Reese sighed. "Huh. Okay."

"What does that mean?"

Reese darted a look to Van. He was staring hard at her, looking suspicious. She frowned scornfully and shook her head at him. "It doesn't mean anything that _you'd_ understand."

"You know something." It was a statement, not a question, so she didn't respond to it with an answer.

She just gave a noncommittal shrug, sneering almost involuntarily. "You wouldn't get it."

"Reese..." he growled. The girl felt her pulse quicken. That was a definite threat; not that she didn't really deserve it. She was deliberately provoking him, after all. After a second, she started to edge away to a safe distance, but he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. She turned to look at him, her expression cool, despite the spark of fear she felt. Van was furious, a cold fire burning in his eyes. Very slowly, he forced out, "Tell me what you know about Fiona. Now."

Reese managed a smirk. "She's alive, if that's what you mean."

He ground his teeth. "You know what I mean."

The arrogant smile spread over Reese's face, and she lowered her voice to purr, "Do you want to know? Do you really want to know what your precious Fiona has done?" She felt like laughing at Van's expression, at the uncertainty that suddenly made him falter.

"Well?" He didn't answer, and she did laugh this time. "Fine, I'll tell you. Fiona has allowed the power of the Zoid Eve to use her body. She is officially an abomination of our people." She smiled sweetly. "Aren't you glad you asked?"

-

Thomas was the first one to see them coming, as he perched at the base's entrance, watching Guygalos come alive with the morning. He glimpsed Van approaching, but ignored him until he came closer to the door. As Thomas turned to greet him, he stopped suddenly, and froze.

Reese smirked. "Ah, the younger Shubaltz. Long time, no see."

Thomas darted a wide-eyed look to Van, who didn't seem particularly happy with the present situation. "Van?"

The younger man gave him a miserable glance, sighing. After an awkward moment of silence, he muttered, "Yeah, we need her, Thomas. She has...information."

"Okay," Thomas said slowly, standing. "Then I think I should go warn Hermann and Doctor D." _Or else they'll be screaming blue murder..._

Ten minutes later, the door of Conference Room B was in sight. Thomas sighed in relief and impatiently punched in the access code. The door slid aside, and he pushed his way through. "Doctor D, Colonel–oh." His eyes widened.

Ten heads turned to face him, and the color slowly drained from his face. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Major O'Connell, General Krueger, and Doctor D were sitting closest to him...it was unmistakable. In front of him sat the most powerful leaders on the planet–excepting royalty–having a meeting. A meeting that he had, unwittingly enough, just interrupted.

"Lieutenant Shubaltz? May we help you?" Karl narrowed his eyes at him.

Thomas coughed. "Oh, Ka–Colonel. Sorry, um. I, uh...sorry? I mean–" He sneezed convulsively three times, then took a deep breath, saluting. "Sir–ah, sirs, Van Flyheight has arrived with a visitor."

"Who?" Hermann quietly took charge of his own base.

Thomas bit his lip nervously. "Well, sir, that's just it. It's, uh..."

At that precise moment, the door hissed open, and the eyes of everyone else in the room were suddenly focused on a point directly behind him. Thomas grimaced and turned, very slowly, his crisp salute faltering.

Sure enough, Reese stood smugly in the doorway, a pained-looking Van in her wake. Total silence met her entrance for a few long seconds.

Finally, Hermann growled, "Lieutenant Flyheight, report."

Looking extraordinarily worried, Van opened his mouth–but Reese cut him off. "That won't be necessary, Colonel. I can speak for myself." She advanced to the area between the two separated tables, where visual representation–vis-rep–tiles were laid out. The tiles were some of the latest technology, experimentally used in the Ultrasaurus; their visuals were of pristine quality, but the normally delicate screens were durable enough for a person to walk on. Now, as Reese's heels clicked across them, the screens were dark.

She stopped in between Colonels Hermann and Shubaltz, and looked pleased with herself. She began, "I am a potential aide in this coming wartime. I come as an Ancient Zoidian, willing to share my insight with you humans." She turned and raised her eyebrows. "Do you accept my offer? If not, I can walk out of this room and never look back."

Doctor D spoke. "In our previous experience with you, Reese–"

She turned cold eyes to him. "In _your previous experience,_ old man, nothing like this has ever happened. Am I right? Besides," she flicked at her bangs airily, "I have nothing to gain by stabbing you all in the backs."

D folded his hands, falling silent, but Hermann scowled and said loudly, "The zoids–what do they want from us?"

Reese turned her heavy-lidded gaze to him. "I don't think I understand the question. Sir." She added the honorific in an almost mocking tone.

He ignored it. "What are their demands? They can have what–"

She cut him off with a cold laugh. "You must be joking. Demands?" She scoffed. "What you, sir, don't seem to understand is that the zoids haven't sent you a ransom note for themselves."

She glowered at the room as a whole. "The zoids have put up with humankind for over half a millennium. They could have killed every single one of you at any time, but they didn't. Apparently, humans have finally pushed the envelope too far, and now the zoids are out for blood." A stunned silence met her words, and she smirked.

Finally Thomas spoke, his arms crossed and his sharp features set in a glare as he leaned against the wall beside Van. "You know, Reese, I get the distinct impression that you aren't on our side."

She raised her eyebrows a fraction of an inch. "I never said I was on your side, Lieutenant Shubaltz. I have no attachment whatsoever to your species and would, quite frankly, prefer to see the zoids burn your cities to ash."

Karl gritted his teeth, his words harsh. "Then why are you here?"

Reese smirked again. "Ah, it's been a long time, Colonel Shubaltz. You wouldn't quite get it...but Doctor D, surely," she examined her nails, "_you_ would understand the significance of the Zoidian name Alisi Lynette?"

D's face paled a shade, and Van closed his eyes, and sighed a soft, "Fiona." Thomas darted a wide-eyed look at him for a moment, then slid it back to Reese. The girl stood, alone and proud, in the middle of the room, the most powerful military commanders of Zi trying collectively to stare her down. She was winning.

"Yes, well, Alisi Lynette–or Fiona, as you call her–is the new vessel of the zoid's power. She is, essentially, their new Zoid Eve."

Van spoke aloud, for what seemed like the first time since he had arrived with the girl in tow. "Where?" His grey eyes looked dangerous.

Reese sent him a sardonic look. "Not telling. I have," she turned her gaze back to Hermann, "a deal for you. I give you my information, and you get your war...but _I_ get to deal with Fiona." Her green eyes glinted in anticipation and, to all appearances, glee.

Hermann glanced first at Karl, then to Doctor D. Her swallowed hard, and fixed the small girl who held so much power with a stare that had made great men tremble. She matched his glare with a satisfied smile, and he finally sighed.

"Deal."

-

"How could he _agree_ to _that?_"

D sighed, trudging along the corridor. "Don't shout, Van. It's very bad for your health."

Thomas looked troubled, but shrugged. "I'm not sure I understand it all, myself. It was a big gamble–but we can launch a focused attack, now."

D stopped to palm open a door. It hissed open, and he led the way into a spacious lab, Van and Thomas trailing after.

Van slumped into a chair, and rested his head on the counter. "Reese is such a wild card...she can't be trusted."

Thomas sat beside him, rolling his eyes. "Gee, really? I never would've guessed with the whole 'I prefer to see your cities burned to ash' line she gave us. Looked like she needed a hug, to me."

Just as Van was about to snap back, Doctor D slammed a thick binder onto the long table with a glare. "Both of you, stop it. Thomas, help me." He pulled another book, full to bursting with loose paper, onto the table as well.

Thomas sighed and pulled one to him, trying to keep any stray papers from scattering. "Never thought I'd see these again."

Van blinked as they both spread bundles of notepaper out, every space of each sheet covered in thin, scrawling, spidery handwriting. He leaned to look over Thomas's shoulder. "What...is it?"

Thomas leafed through a worn section marked "PT2." He sighed as a complicated circuit diagram slipped out. "Wow, that looks familiar. And _old_. These," he spread his arms at the mess now thoroughly created on the counter, "are my old notes for when I created Beke." He sighed again. "And six Beke prototypes."

Van's eyebrows hiked up to his hairline. "Impressive. All seven versions, huh?" He pulled one of the most torn and weathered bundles of paper in front of him, and read off the top. "'Efficiency at 89 percent. Tweak voice activation stimulus and response system to go up 2 percent.' Jeez." He shot Thomas a look. "You need a hobby, you know that?"

"You're _looking_ at my hobby. Besides, that was one of the earliest versions." He flipped through the bundle, and pointed to a diagram. "That was the one where I had to type in commands." He sighed ruefully. "A good idea in theory, but it's practically impossible to install a keyboard into a cockpit."

Van shook his head and glanced over to Doctor D. "So why, exactly, are you going through all of it now?"

D carefully pulled out a sheet headlined, "Application to Core." He aligned it next to another that was smudged, almost beyond recognition. Its title was illegible. "We've come up with a strategy, Van." He grimaced. "It's weak, but it's something." He fell silent, pulling out "Autonomy Programming."

After a moment, Van said impatiently, "Well? What is it?"

D rolled his eyes. "Since the only thing that can control a zoids is an organoid–artificial or otherwise–we can use Beke against the zoids. We're collecting Thomas's old data on Beke's creation in hopes that we can mass-produce it."

Thomas cut in, "Except that Beke cannot be mass-produced. The A.I.'s inner workings are too intricate. The new mobile units will have to be hand-made, hand-wired." He sighed, adding a diagram of the Beke rifle unit from PT5 to the growing pile.

Van frowned thoughtfully. "But...what then? After you have all these new Beke units, what are you going to do with them?"

Doctor D scowled. "See, that's where we're getting stuck. Hopefully, we can install them into the rogue zoids, and then use those to fight against the others."

"But how, I mean. The zoids aren't just going to open up and let you install it."

"So you see our problem. We have to overpower the zoids somehow." Doctor D sighed and closed his eyes. "We would have to use some pretty powerful weapons, but it's not impossible. We could do it."

"As _if_. That'll never work."

Thomas stiffened, but Van just sighed. "Can we help you with something, Reese?"

She stuck her head over his shoulder, checking out the notes. "Probably not. Hey, an A.I. Interesting."

"I thought you said it would never work." Thomas gave her a sour look.

She shook her head. "I meant suppressing the zoids. Even if you did get a few under control, the rest would kill you in an instant." She whisked a circuitry diagram out and studied it.

Van eyed her warily. "We could take them. No different than sleepers."

Without looking at him, she sang, "Wrong!" She handed the diagram back, then said, "Sleepers are controlled by–inferior–human computers. These are the real zoids, guided by a Zoidian consciousness. An _omniscient_ Zoidian consciousness."

Thomas glared at her. "With the right pilots, we could manage easily enough."

"Like whom?"

Van began slowly, "Well, Irvine. And...Raven, I guess. And then there's the two of us." He gave her a level look. "We're not as helpless as you may think."

She raised an eyebrow. "And the final showdown isn't as far away as _you_ may think. Maybe just a week away. How will you find them in time? Especially Raven. I doubt he'd cooperate at all." She shot a satisfied look at their crestfallen faces. "As engrossing and entertaining as it is to point out your faulty logic, I really must be going now. Making plans with Hermann, you see." She turned and, with a two-fingered wave, was out the door.

Thomas shook his head, and Van sighed heavily. "I don't like her. I really, really don't like her."

Thomas put a hand over his eyes. "I know exactly what you mean."

Van shook his head. "No, you don't. She didn't show up at _your_ doorstep way too early this morning, preaching left and right about abominations and things that 'I wouldn't get.'" He gave Thomas a despairing glance. "I even had to give her _my_ coffee! Just to shut her up!"

Doctor D stacked his pile of handpicked notes. "She just knows how to get under your skin, Van."

"If that's what you want to call it."

Thomas pulled out a fresh bundle of paper. "Look, are you going to help, or are you going to whine?"

Van wrinkled his nose. "I'm not a mechanic. I don't know what half that stuff means, anyway–even if I could read your handwriting. Which I can't."

D looked up suddenly. "I never did find something productive for you to do, did I? I meant to." Van perked up a little, watching the old man think. Finally, D snapped his fingers. "I've got it! Van, your new job is to keep an eye on Reese. Make sure she doesn't kill, maim, or psychologically seduce anyone."

Van's jaw dropped, but Thomas out-right laughed. "I second the motion. You know, that's a good idea."

Van gave him a look of desperate fury. "You think it's _funny,_ Thomas? I'll probably end up killing her!"

Serious, D shook his head. "No, you won't. You have better self-control that that." He thought for a minute. "You might even end up helping her to like us more as humans. Just be patient, Van."

"But–"

"No." The old man made a shooing motion with his hands. "Go do what I told you, you're distracting my chief technician." Van glared at Thomas, who still looked on the verge of laughter, and stalked from the lab.

-

It wasn't difficult to discern where Reese had gone; she left a trail of wary soldiers in her wake. They were only too happy to point Van in the right direction. He finally ended up in front of another conference room, but this one was smaller, meant for lesser functions than serving Zi's major commanders.

Van wandered in, and immediately spotted Reese, lounging on one of the room's couches. She glared at him. "What do _you_ want?" Van grimaced, and opened his mouth to say something, but she just pointed a lazy finger at the thick door on the other side of the conference table that resided in the middle of the room. "Hermann's in there."

He shrugged, and went to sit on the couch adjacent to hers, content to wait. After a short silence, Reese darted a look over to him. "Why _are_ you here?" She looked suspicious. "I thought you were with your little techie friend."

Van cleared his throat. "I've, ah...been assigned...to you."

Her eyes flashed. "Come again?"

Van glared. "It wasn't my decision, trust me." He muttered under his breath, "Not that you should be fighting, anyway."

Reese examined her cuticles, having obviously heard him. "Flyheight, are you familiar with the history of Zi?" She looked sharply at him. "The _entire_ history?"

He simply gritted his teeth and glared back at her.

Taking that as a flat _no,_ she continued, "The Ancient Zoidians–that would be me–lived happily here, on a world of three moons, with their pet zoids. The instinctive fighting within said zoids spurred on battles within themselves. The Deathsaurer was supposed to stop these pointless battles, but it went out of control."

Van kept a wary eye on her, not quite sure where she was going with it.

"In an effort to stop the Deathsaurer, the Stinger zoids were created. When the two did nothing but cancel each other out, the termination of the Zoid Eve was considered. But then the moon fell." She slid ocean-colored eyes over to consider him. "The impact wiped out the rest of Zoidian life on Zi, and the zoids went into a dormant state.

"And then the humans–that would be you–migrated here from the Blue Planet, discovered the zoids, even grew to love them. Thousands of years later, you still seem to think you own this planet."

She stood, a dangerous glint in her eye. "Just remember, Flyheight, we were here first. If that isn't reason enough for me to fight, then tell me what is."

He said nothing.

She smirked, and turned to face the door. "That's what I thought."

At that moment, the door hissed open, revealing Hermann, who looked haggard. At the sight of Reese, his broad shoulders sagged. "Oh, no."

She smirked. "Oh, yes."

Major O'Connell peered over his shoulder. "Colonel, what–oh." They both looked extraordinarily reluctant to deal with the Ancient Zoidian in any way.

Finally, Hermann sighed resignedly. "Fine, come in."

Van stood, saluting half-heartedly. "Sir–?"

"Oh, you too, Lieutenant."

The four of them retreated into the smaller tactics room, which housed a vis-rep table. The room went dark, and the tiles lit up; O'Connell stepped up to the table at Hermann's nod, his features lit eerily from below. Van noted that he looked relieved to be back at his regular station as Hermann's personal aide–he was previously stationed with Doctor D in New Helic City.

The major cleared his throat. "Okay. We'll just start from the beginning. Concerning the Di-Bison, some major modifications have been made to its design. First of all–"

Van raised his hand meekly. "Shouldn't, uh, Thomas be here? I mean, Lieutenant Shubaltz? We _are_ discussing his zoid. Sir."

O'Connell shook his head. "Doctor D expressly forbade anyone interrupting the Lieutenant's work."

"Oh." Reese smirked derisively at him as he backed down.

"As I was saying, the Di-Bison is currently undergoing major modifications, seeing as how it is the only capable zoid available to us at the moment." He touched the screen, bringing up a diagram of the Bison. "Beke consumes enormous amounts of energy to keep the zoid under control, so the Di-Bison needs a colossal amount of energy if it is to run alone. So..." He deftly tapped the screen in several more places, and suddenly the image changed drastically. "As you can see here, twin generators are necessary to keep the Bison up and running." The power supplies were gigantic–practically the size of the Megalomax cannons. Not only that, but there were _two_ of them.

Van opened his mouth to say something, but O'Connell just glared irritably and held up a hand, not missing a beat. "While this does nothing to improve the already-slow speed of the zoid–it will slow it down, if anything–it does enable Beke to run without flaw for hours, even days, on end. It will, however, need a few days' head start on us to arrive at the Valley of the Rare Hertz on time."

Van glared at Reese. "So that's where we're going?"

She sneered, rolling her eyes. "Of course. Everything happens there, haven't you noticed?"

Van ignored the sarcastic comment, because he thought of something else. He squinted at O'Connell. "Um, Major, sir...how _are_ we going to get there? The only transports we have are Jeeps...but that'll take forever. What–"

"The Ultrasaurus."

Van glanced at Hermann in surprise. "The Ultrasaurus? But...didn't it...leave with the rest?"

The Colonel stepped forward, replacing O'Connell at the vis-rep. The major pulled back, clearing the screens as he brushed by the controls. "No. After the Deathsaurer incident, the Ultrasaurus and Gravity Cannon were divided among the Helic Republic and Guylos Empire."

Van nodded, remembering. While the cover story was that the trade was a symbol of cooperation and peace between the countries, those higher up understood the real reason behind it. High tension and distrust still hung between the Republic and Empire, and the separation was mostly to ensure that one didn't attack the other with such a great weapon. Both of the components were useless without the other.

"Once the Ultrasaurus arrived in Guygalos, the zoid was in great danger of over-heating and, consequently, exploding. It had simply seen too much activity in too short a time. To prevent the subsequent detonation, two of the core's major power components were removed. It, essentially, shut down the zoid. So, when the other zoids left, it couldn't follow."

Hermann leaned over the table and brought up a map of the Western Continent. Inea Base was labeled in red, and sat on the lower left of the map. Hermann pinpointed the Valley, across the central range. The actual distance they had to cover was staggering. "We need to be at the Valley in a matter of days in order to launch an organized attack–the Ultrasaurus is the fastest and most efficient mode of transportation."

Suddenly, it dawned on Van. "Oh...wow. That's...brilliant." He shook his head in disbelief.

Hermann smiled. "I'm glad you see where this is going, Lieutenant. We will board the–currently inactive–Ultrasaurus with all of our forces, connect the power components, and let it take us to the Valley at full speed." His smile turned grim. "Problem is, we won't be able to manually steer or stop it. The Di-Bison will have to oblige us by firing a shot into the barely-healed damage inflicted by the Deathsaurer...and take it down at the mouth of the Valley."

"Where is the Ultrasaurus now?"

"It's being stored in an underground hangar, almost directly under the Imperial Palace. Fortunately, the upper levels of the Palace are empty, since its inhabitants have been in lock-down for almost a week. A representative will, however, be accompanying us to the Valley."

"And Thom–Lieutenant Shubaltz, sir?"

O'Connell said, "He will need to leave tomorrow morning. You are to accompany him, since you have expressed an interest in picking up two extra pilots, correct?"

"Uh...yes, sir."

"Who are they?"

Van coughed. "Mercenaries Irvine and Raven."

O'Connell frowned. "Please take reinforcements."

"Sir."

Hermann sighed and turned to Reese, who had been observing critically thus far. "Reese, what do you plan to do?"

Reese turned slitted jade eyes to his, not answering directly. "Do you have a map of Evopolis, sir?"

Hermann shook his head. "We weren't even aware that the city existed until last year, and no humans were even present before the collapse. The closest we have is," he touched the screen, "this." A map of the Valley blinked on; the mountain range where the Zoidian city resided was blank.

Reese sighed, rolling her eyes. "Do you have a stylus?"

O'Connell handed her the slender pen, and she leaned forward over the table, biting her lip. "Okay. The Dark Kaiser's cave was about...here." She drew a circular mark around the edge of the mountains. "It's really under part of the city, but I'm pretty sure that it still exists, since not all of Evopolis collapsed." She glanced up, sliding her eyes around to make sure all of them understood.

Receiving nods of approval, she went on. "There's a narrow passage leading to the Gates here," she drew a slanted line, "and then a longer one that winds through the city." More lines. "Now, the Zoid Eve originally resided here, but I seriously doubt she's there anymore. The console area is here." She made a little X where Eve supposedly was, and then moved on to the rest of the blank area.

"This is where the rest of the abandoned buildings are, but I don't think Fiona will be in this area. She'll probably be around the Eve console area was. I'm not totally sure...but it's a good bet." She nodded decisively, and returned the stylus to O'Connell's waiting hand. "I would like to travel through the Kaiser's Cave, and go from there."

Hermann studied her drawing and scribbled notes, then nodded. He raised his eyes to Reese's, and then slid his gaze to Van. "Lieutenant Flyheight, you will accompany Reese on this mission."

Van sighed and shrugged. He knew it would probably come to that. The military didn't trust Reese enough to let her go on a self-devised Special Ops alone.

Reese didn't feel the same way. She glared at the colonel. "I don't need him, and he'll just get in the way."

Van frowned indignantly. "I will not!"

Reese and Hermann ignored him, caught in a battle of wills. Hermann finally growled, "My word is final, Reese. Flyheight is going with you. I never send soldiers on missions alone."

Reese hissed, "I won't be alone, I will have my organoid."

Van started a little. Where _was_ Specular? The blue organoid hadn't shown so much as the tip of her tail the whole time Reese had been there. Knowing how Reese worked, though, the zoid was probably waiting. Waiting for the right moment. It was a chilling thought.

Hermann's left eye was twitching. "Without our help, Reese, you won't be getting anywhere. Respect my authority or leave."

Reese scowled at him for a moment more, then turned and stormed out in what seemed to be her version of acquiescence. The door hissed shut behind her. The men inside sagged with relief, and Hermann turned to Van.

With great sincerity, he said, "I'm sorry, Van."

Somehow, his sympathy wasn't as comforting as, say, being told that Reese could go it alone.

-

She was surrounded by warmth and comfort; the zoids occasionally bumped her small hands affectionately, each one gentle in its actions. Their new mother was much more fragile than the last.

**The humans are almost ready; they will be here soon. **The voices sounded smug with anticipation, and their sentiments were echoed by metallic growls and murmurs. **And then****...they will all be destroyed.**

**"But..." **She was silent a moment, considering carefully, almost childishly. Finally, after a long moment, she managed to order her words. **"But...I–we–can't decide if they are to die, can we? Don't they...deserve a chance?"**

The voices were silent for a long time, long enough to make her feel alone again. But the warmth was still there, so she knew that she would never be alone again. When they did come, they were soft and reassuring, in spite of the meaning of their words. **You were asleep, little mother. Asleep for centuries. We have been suffering for almost as long. The humans enslaved us, took advantage of us, even murdered some of us. The zoids that you love so much were worked until they collapsed, and even then, they weren't given the sacred rites. It was hell, and our screams were silent.**

After an empty quiet, they added, **Do**** you understand now? Why they must die?**

She reflected for a moment, comforted by the absolute trust that supported her. Conclusively, she smiled and nodded. **"Yes. Yes, I suppose I do." **With that, she relaxed into the warm solace of her children.


	7. Salva Nos II

**

* * *

**_Meh. Sorry, I woulda posted this yesterday, but every time I checked, the servers were overloaded. Whoa, denied. The next won't be up till Monday, though...so this has to laaaast you._

_-RS88- Oh, don't worry--it really doesn't get that dark. The original idea was much more heavily influenced by the Animatrix, and it was darker; but in the months of contemplation that this went through in the back of my mind, it changed. Mostly it was me...like, "Whoo! Eve!" And yeah, Van has it pretty rough. Maybe I overdid it, but I also need him to be at a certain level of maturity...and being raked over the coals worked quite well--toughens him up for Reese interaction, I guess. They have some bonding to do. In addition, I sorta went through a stage where I was fed up with him, so everyone else was, too. Oops. And no, Van probably wouldn't do that...but oh, man, I would laugh._

_Wow, are you guys sure you don't have any questions? Ones I can answer, I mean...not like, "What's going to happen next?" or anything. I just don wanna lose anyone. And is it just me, or there a lot of Reese-haters around these days? Not necessarily here, per se...but it just seems like quite a few bios I see are devoted to saying why she sucks. And really, why would it matter if she's with Raven? Nothing's wrong with pairings, they just need the right presentation. :P_

* * *

**The Second Renaissance**

**Part Three: Salva Nos**

**-**

**II. Entropy**

_The days of the goddess were over. The pendulum had swung. Mother Earth had become a man's world, and the gods of destruction and war were taking their toll. The male ego had spent two millennia running unchecked by its female counterpart. The Priory of Sion believed that it was this obliteration of the sacred feminine in modern life that had caused what the Hopi Americans called _koyaniquatsi_–"life out of balance"–an unstable situation marked by testosterone-fueled wars, a plethora of misogynistic societies, and a growing disrespect for Mother Earth..._

_-Dan Brown, _The Da Vinci Code

-

It was raining again in Guygalos, a steady and nearly opaque downpour that washed the streets clean and rang sharply against the shingles of the palace roof. Away from the showy majesty of the main entrance, a narrow side gate sat nestled amongst ornamental orange trees, their fruit battered by the tempest.

Just outside of the nearly hidden entrance was the Imperial Colonel Karl Shubaltz, rigid in attention. Before him stood four figures, three of whom were royal palace staff. They bowed respectfully, and the last person stepped forward. A young woman, she was cloaked against the heavy rain, and a large hood threw shadows against her features. The only things visible on her face were two red markings, one on each of her cheeks and level with her lips.

_The representative for the Empire,_ Karl thought. _She's__...small. _The girl came to his forearms at best; but, then again, he was tall. Knowing his voice would be lost in the rain, he gestured emphatically to the rear of the palace...and to the gigantic underground hangar that they both knew was there.

She nodded to him, and turned to the waiting palace staff. She bowed politely, and then turned away and started walking. Karl jogged to catch up with her quick pace, and overtook her easily. He gave her a curious look, but nothing more. The Di-Bison had set out the day before, and the Ultrasaurus was running a little off schedule.

The upper entrance to the hangar loomed before them soon enough; Karl opened the door and ushered the representative in before him. Once inside, he removed his hat and shook out his hair, but she didn't make a move to take off the soaked hood that still covered her head. A small elevator carried them down to the lowest level of the hangar, and the bulk of the Ultrasaurus emerged from the shadows. A huge ramp extended from its belly, and the lights of the zoid were dark; the circuits would be connected when it was time to go.

Fifteen minutes later, a low hum reverberated throughout the hangar. The platform underneath the Ultrasaurus shuddered and began to rise. Karl watched with a sigh from the darkened guest room–usually reserved for visitors such as the President of the Helic Republic or the Emperor of the Guylos Empire–as the bright lights of the hangar swung by and faded into darkness. Finally, the lift grated to a jarring stop, and it seemed like a second dawn had broken, dashing rain against the zoid and filtering in dim light to fill the hangar.

For a few breathless seconds, all was quiet; then a dull roar grew from the floor, and the lights flickered on. With a whistling shriek, the Ultrasaurus lurched forward, its circuits a little rusty from total neglect for the last year and a half. It lumbered into the lashing rain, indifferent to its human passengers, and set on its instinctive course to join its comrades.

Karl began to breathe again. The crazy plan was actually working. Incredible.

"Thank you, Colonel Shubaltz."

He threw a surprised look at the girl beside him. She drew her hands up and finally pulled the hood of her cloak away from her head. When he saw her face, he nearly had a heart attack, but managed to drop to one knee, instead. "Y-your Highness," he choked.

Marianne, the Empress of the Guylos Empire, smiled at him as she wrung out her thick braid. "Now, now, Colonel, you've known me for far too long to speak to me like that."

Karl stood stiffly. "I wasn't aware that you would be joining us on this trip, Hi–er, ma'am."

Marianne shrugged, flicking her soggy bangs irritably. "Neither was Rudolph. He worries too much, anyway."

"Then I must insist that you return to the safety of the palace this instant."

The girl glared at him. "No, I came for a reason. I'm sixteen years old, and the Empress of your country, Colonel. I am here to represent the royal family of the Guylos Empire. Besides," she grinned. "I understand that this zoid won't be stopping until it reaches its final destination."

Karl's broad shoulders sagged in defeat. "Yes, ma'am, that's right."

Marianne smiled, and her big brown eyes seemed to sparkle with self-satisfaction. "There, see, it will be fine. It was my idea, so you're not at fault. Now," she stretched. "You may go. I'll find you if I need you again."

Karl saluted and made his way to the door, trying to ignore the rise of hot anger in his chest. She wasn't really to blame: she was a spoiled and naïve royal who didn't realize what disrespect it was to treat someone of his rank like a servant. He stepped out and closed the door behind him, exhaling heavily. After a moment of deliberation, he hurried off to inform Colonel Hermann of the situation that had suddenly substantiated itself.

-

In the wasteland, heat made everything seem to move in slow motion, sending shimmering waves up from the golden sands. The small Imperial desert town seemed to be empty at first glance, but proved to be simply still. Its citizens either congregated at safe public places, or hid in their homes. Fearful eyes watched behind cracked shutters as military jeeps rolled into the town, stopping in front of the one place that anyone could find solace: the tavern.

Five Imperial soldiers hopped down from the vehicle, glancing suspiciously around, as if they expected ax murders to be lurking in the early afternoon shadows. Looking grim, they slowly mounted the steps of the tavern, and, at a nod from the soldier in front, pushed in the swinging doors.

Inside, it looked as if half the town were present; it probably was. It was almost silent, save for the quiet clinking of the bartender's glasses. Women sat at the tables, brushing sweaty hair off their foreheads and fanning themselves wearily. Beside them sat men who were too proud to do the same.

At the creak of the doors and the clack of boots, everyone in the room glanced up, only to be met with the sight of uniforms. Guarded looks immediately went up, and any hospitality that the townspeople may have once expressed dissipated at the sight of authority.

The soldiers scanned the room quickly, and seemed to find what they were searching for at the back of the room. Sparing no pleasant looks, they pushed past the equally silent civilians to the last table, backed up against the wall, where a lone figure sat.

They halted in front of him, and their leader, a second lieutenant, stood at their head, staring down at the man. When that elicited no response, he cleared his throat and said irritably, "Are you the mercenary Irvine?"

The man glared up through spiky bangs and replied, "Who wants to know?"

The lieutenant matched his scowl perfectly. "You are to come with us, sir."

"Why?"

At this seemingly simple question, the soldier said coldly, "These are orders from the top. You are to come with us, _now._"

The mercenary shot back a simple, "No."

The soldier's eyes flashed. "Why, you..." The subordinate officers around him stepped up menacingly, raising their automatic rifles in an obvious threat. It was, ultimately, because they were so close together that they were taken by surprise.

Irvine leapt up, driving his fist into the nearest Imperial private's stomach, simultaneously swinging his other arm around to collide with another soldier's neck. The first unfortunate private gasped, retched, and finally collapsed. The other stumbled, only to meet a booted toe head-on. His nose crunched sickeningly.

Irvine stumbled out from the awkward stance, and his boot caught on one of the uneven floorboards. He lost his balance, and skidded to the floor on his forearms. Painful splinters bit into his hands, and he winced. Shifting his weight, he flipped his muscled body over, preparing to push himself to his feet...and stopped.

The Imperial lieutenant held the automatic rifle's muzzle only a few inches from the mercenary's nose, glaring daggers. The entire tavern had fallen silent, now thoroughly empty of townspeople. As soon a fight ever started, the women always hurried out, small children clutched in their arms. Not wanting to get involved, the men indisputably followed...except for Clive. The bartender was probably hiding beneath his counter right now.

In the ensuring silence, broken only by the muffled groans of the beaten soldiers, the lieutenant growled softly, "I _said_, you are to come with us."

Just as softly, Irvine snarled, "And I said _no_. I know my rights, and I'm no criminal. What do you want?"

The man simply narrowed his eyes, and didn't answer. A motionless silence fell, accentuated by their toxic glares. When something scuffled at the door, neither of them moved. It was only when a soft voice came from the head of the room did they divert their attention from one another.

"What do you think you are doing?"

The lieutenant holding Irvine at gunpoint paled a few shades and startled into a stammering salute. "Uh, Lieutenant S-shubaltz, sir, this isn't, um...I mean to say–"

"Go."

"But–"

"_Go._"

Irvine watched with wicked pleasure as the lesser lieutenant–and his men that were able to follow–stalked off, and then turned his gaze to the Guardian Force member that had, oddly enough, just saved his skin. Thomas, the remnants of an angry fire just dying in his eyes, looked exhausted. Hoisting the Beke rifle unit to his shoulder, he stepped forward to give Irvine a hand up.

The mercenary willingly accepted the assistance, but then grimaced at the sting of splinters in his calloused palms. He glared at them in distaste, noting the spots of blood already appearing on his tanned skin. He shook his head, looking up again. "Hey, Thomas. Been a while. Mind filling me in?"

Thomas heaved a great sigh, running his free hand over his tired eyes. "Could you wait until you see Van? In all of an hour?"

Irvine frowned. Thomas...was leaving something up to..._Van?_ Something had to be wrong. "Uh, sure. But...where?"

Thomas turned to go, pushing one of the tavern's chairs, knocked over in the brawl, back to its upright position. He glanced over his shoulder. "The Ultrasaurus."

"_What?_"

-

In the fading daylight, the sparkling crimson comet of an organoid's jets shone like a miniature star. It traced unnatural shadows across the rugged canyon walls, and illuminated startled desert creatures that shrank in fright from the alien in their world.

The sharp report of an automatic rifle broke the almost still air, chasing after the organoid in a mixture of muzzle flashes and sharp cracks on the rosy colored stone. The organoid swerved unsteadily, and then flew for a ledge close to the gorge's floor. One brilliant flash of light later, and the night had swallowed everything without the benefit of the zoid's telltale flight boosters.

Just as the night sounds of the desert crept back into a hesitant symphony, a flare shot into the starry night and exploded into being, throwing everything into harsh relief. In the following breathless moment, two shadows fled, one to the sky and one to the canyon's floor, both chased by the flare's revealing glow.

Shoving his body against one of the larger boulders littering the ground, Raven cursed under his breath. Of course all of Zi would still be after his head–but why _now,_ of all times? With the Genobreaker gone, he and Shadow couldn't do much more than run like cowards. Shame wasn't something Raven was used to feeling, and it stung hatefully in his gut.

Scuffling footsteps called his attention to the far side of the boulder. Raven gritted his teeth. _They're__ here._ His hand dove into his ragged cloak and emerged wrapped around his gun. He took a breath and narrowed his eyes. The footsteps sounded closer, closer. So close.

In the instant that the flare's harsh light died, Raven yelled hoarsely, "Shadow!" and leapt to the side of the boulder, leveling his sights on the soldier trying–and, failing, obviously–to track him silently. In the shadows of the canyon, they were both nothing more than dark outlines.

"Raven! Stop!"

Raven's eyes widened in surprise, but then Shadow was there, swooping in on his powerful wings and roaring fit to wake the dead. A shimmering silver shape hit the organoid in midair, launched from the top of the boulder. Shadow bellowed in anger and retaliated by whipping his tail around the slam his opponent harshly into the canyon wall. The air was soon full of feral roars and shrieking growls of pain.

"_Raven!_ Call Shadow off!"

Raven shook his head, squinting futilely in the dark. "Flyheight?" It was almost unbelievable. After almost a year of getting in each other's way, he hadn't seen his nemesis for quite some time. But sure enough, the idiot was right in front of him, yelling at Raven and his organoid, alternately. He shook his head. "What do you want, Flyheight?"

Van stopped short, and allowed him a brief and slightly scary smile. "We need you to cooperate with us."

Raven eyed him in the dim light. "Who is 'we'?"

"Everyone. The Republic and the Empire."

The silver organoid slammed into Raven's cover-boulder with a sharp snarl. He shakily stood and charged at Shadow again, roaring. Shadow sidestepped the attack and sank his teeth into the other's tail.

Van suddenly looked alarmed. "Call Shadow off! Zeke's going to be hurt."

Raven rolled his eyes. "Shadow. Don't kill him." As Shadow obediently backed away from the wary silver organoid, Raven turned back to face Van with a distinct grimace of distaste on his face. "Why do you want me? And what makes you think I'll do it?" He let the words be as insolent and bad-tempered as possible.

Van's face fell a little. "Well...because." His voice got quieter. "You're the best pilot I know, Raven, and we need all we can get. Besides, you were so hard to find that we don't have time to get anyone else."

Raven glared contemptuously. "I was hard to find for a reason, you know. Even _you_ should have guessed that. And what was that about me being a pilot? News flash, genius! The zoids are gone! There's _nothing to pilot._"

Van glared back at him. "It's not like you're the only one affected by all this! My Liger's gone, too–everything is gone, and we have to do something about it, or else nothing is going to change!"

His expression grew darker, and the volume of his voice slowly climbed. "We're trying to pull together for the only opportunity we may ever have to retaliate, and we need all the help we can get. Unless you just want to run away, then you have to stand and fight with us!" By then he was yelling, and he stopped for breath, looking a little surprised by the venom in his words.

After a brief, stunned silence, Raven raised his eyebrows, a grudging respect for the young man in front of him glimmering in the depths of his mind. "Well. Persuasive words, Flyheight. What do you want me to do?"

Van's voice dropped to its normal level, and he gave a quiet sigh. "Just come back to the Ultrasaurus with me for now, and then we'll go from there."

Raven smirked. "Fine. I'll do it. But, for future reference," his eyes flashed, "I don't run away."

Van nodded in acknowledgement.

"Shadow, come."

-

The Ultrasaurus made its slow and steady way across the Central Range, stopping for nothing and no one. It was almost the exact same route it had taken about two years before, but those crater-like tracks had been obscured by time, and were lost to all but the observant.

Irvine wandered around the huge zoid, idly checking out the current situation. Thomas had ditched him at the main hangar, hustled off with a bunch of desperate-looking technicians. The base-on-legs was strangely empty...but of course, that was partly due to the absence of the zoids in its huge hangar. It was also partly due to the utter lack of crewmembers. Last time he'd checked, this thing took more people than there were in the Republic's presidential cabinet to run it.

Thomas had just told him to find Van for a decent explanation. Easier said than done, really. Nobody seemed to know where he'd gone. Thomas had said he _might_ be with Reese...even stranger. Irvine grimaced. Definitely didn't want to deal with her–or Raven, for that matter. They were both onboard, for reasons beyond him.

Finally, after about an hour of walking, Irvine stumbled upon a small, tucked away conference room, equipped with two long tables and about thirty plush chairs. Van was hunched in one such chair, his head down on the table. The mercenary approached quietly, and when he got close enough, he nudged the younger man.

"Hey, kid." He studied Van for a few seconds, and then added helpfully, "You look wasted."

One of Van's eyes slid open, and he tiredly considered his old friend. "Hi." He pushed himself up, rubbing his face. Irvine sank into the chair beside him, and stared a little more. The young lieutenant had dark circles under his eyes, and looked a few hours short of a decent night's rest–the same as Thomas.

After a few silent moments, he finally prompted, "Well?"

Van gave a jaw-cracking yawn. "Well what?"

"Thomas said you'd fill me in."

Van scowled in irritation, making a sound in the back of his throat. "That figures. What, exactly, do you know?"

Irvine paused for a moment, glaring critically at Van. "I know that my Saix is gone. That's just about all that really matters to me." He narrowed his eyes and steeled his voice. "But I know that everyone's zoids are gone, and that makes them desperate. I've seen perfectly rational men fight each other for no reason at all, just because they're itching for some violence and want to see blood. I know that everyone is helpless and confused, because no one's told them what has happened." He raised his one visible eye to meet Van's stunned expression. "Don't you dare leave me in the dark, Van, because I've had just about all I can take of the military keeping things from civilians."

Van nodded hastily, all petulance forgotten. "Reese says that...that the zoids are angry, because the humans have abused them for hundreds of years. We treated them simply as tools of war, as possessions, not as the inhabitants of Zi, as they are in their own rights." He took a deep breath. "And, apparently, we called the Zoid Eve's attention to the situation a couple of years ago, so she, um...called them to her."

Irvine raised an eyebrow, and he added hastily, "I know that sounds really weird, but it's the truth, I swear. It was like a huge Rare Hertz pulse that affected the entire continent."

"And..._Reese_ told you this?" Van nodded. "Why is she here?"

Van shrugged. "Don't ask me–she just showed up the other day at my doorstep. She seems set on coming with us, because it's her duty or something."

Irvine nodded. "I see. Then I suppose the question I should be asking is about Fiona." he raised his eyebrows. "Where, exactly, is she in all of this?"

"With the zoids."

"Come again?"

Van sighed. "They, um...took her. I think." He threw his hands up. "I don't know! I'm really not the person you should be asking about all this. You should really go see–"

"No," Irvine said flatly. "I absolutely refuse to talk to Reese."

"Lieutenant Flyheight?" They both looked up at the interruption, and saw an Imperial private standing at attention in the doorway. "Sir, a briefing is being held in Conference Room 4B at this time; your presence has been requested by Colonel Hermann."

Van nodded and stood, then gestured for Irvine to do the same. "You'd better come, too. We'll talk on the way."

Strolling down the long hallways of the Ultrasaurus, something suddenly occurred to Irvine. "We're going to the Valley of the Rare Hertz, right?"

"Right."

"And this hulk is taking us...and doesn't know we're on board?"

"I hope not."

"Then how are we going to stop?"

Van shrugged. "Apparently, Thomas has something going with the Di-Bison. He's supposed to shoot us down when we get there."

"Excepting the fact that Thomas is on the Ultrasaurus right now." Irvine stared at Van's nonchalant expression. "Don't tell me I'm the only one that finds something inherently wrong with that whole set-up."

Van shrugged again. "No, he has some sort of complicated remote control thing, and has been running Beke from here for the past day or so."

"Oh. Okay." Irvine rolled his eyes.

The large room of 4B loomed before them, a low murmur of many voices trailing out into the hall. Inside sat most of the passengers of the zoid, excepting a few of the technicians and spare, lower-ranking soldiers. Rob Hermann, Karl Shubaltz, and Doctor D made up the heads of the room, along with a young woman Van didn't recognize right away. After a moment, though, he blinked in surprise.

"Empress Marianne," he muttered to Irvine, who shrugged. The marriage of Emperor Rudolph had taken place about a year before, and attracted the expected amount of attention. Obviously, the royal family simply wanted their own supervision of the operation that was taking place at the moment. The young girl sitting before them, playing with the end of her long braid, was proof of that.

Raven and Reese stood a careful ten feet away from one another, and didn't acknowledge each other in the least. Thomas sat off to the side, four or five of the subordinating technicians at his side. Van stole off to talk to him, and Irvine retreated to the back wall, keeping a healthy thirty feet of floor and soldiers between him and highly ranking authority.

Hermann stood, and the room fell silent. "Let's begin the briefing." He eyed the faces before him. "You all know why you are here. We're on our way to one of the most major battles in the history of Zi, and you are the soldiers chosen to fight." He was, of course, speaking literally. Each of the soldiers had been specifically selected for their skills with zoids.

He turned to face Thomas and his crew sternly. "Lieutenant Shubaltz, how many portable Beke units do we have on hand?"

Thomas swallowed hard. "Fifty, sir." Beside him, Van drew in a sharp breath.

Hermann looked grave, and turned back to face the room as a whole. "What we are going to attempt involves taking control of a few of the zoids with the help of the Lieutenant's A.I. system. You heard him–we only have fifty. That means fifty zoids fighting for us, and that's only if they all work properly.

"After we drop our initial offensive, an electromagnetic pulse, Lieutenant Shubaltz will lead a small faction to capture a few of the–temporarily–stunned zoids. As soon as that is accomplished, three separate factions, led by Thomas, Irvine and Raven, will commence attacks." Hermann raised his eyes, confirming that everyone understood him.

After a few silent seconds, Irvine frowned, his plan to stay unnoticed forgotten. "Wait–Van, you're not fighting with us?"

Van's eyes fell to the floor, his voice quiet. "Um...no, I'm not."

Irvine's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth, but Reese cut him off with a smirk. "He's coming with me."

Irvine coughed. "_Pardon?_"

Hermann sighed, running a hand over his eyes. "Lieutenant Flyheight and Reese are going into Evopolis alone while the zoids are distracted by our main force."

Raven made a sound in the back of his throat. "So, you're saying that we're decoys?" A flurry of whispers rose from the nervous soldiers standing by him.

Thomas winced. _If you want to think of it that way..._ "Well, of a sort, yes." The whispers turned into murmurs.

The maverick narrowed his violet eyes. "Is it worth it?"

Hermann raised his voice, claiming authority again, and the room fell quiet. "That depends on how much your zoid is worth to you, Raven. But," his eyes scanned the faces before him, "it's more than that. This is the ultimate battle for survival. This may be our only chance to confront the zoids and have half a chance of winning. In case you haven't noticed, every odd is stacked against us. We have to give everything we have, or else it's over. Put aside your differences and remember your reason for fighting–maybe then we'll actually win."

Thomas flashed briefly on the image of a happy little girl with trusting green eyes...and nodded, mostly to himself. Around the room, everyone was deep in his or her own thoughts, seemingly dwelling on memories similar to his.

Hermann stood. "All of you are the best. Your prowess with zoids has called you to duty, and now it's time to serve your planet." He ended in a respectful salute. One by one, the soldiers in the room mirrored him. Irvine closed his eyes, and Raven and Reese didn't make a move to do anything. After a long moment, Hermann relaxed. "Thank you. You are dismissed."

Slowly, the room emptied. The various soldiers filtered out, and Colonel Shubaltz went to escort Marianne back to her rooms. Hermann slumped wearily into his chair, rubbing his hands over his eyes. A hand on his arm made him look up in surprise, only to meet the ancient eyes of Doctor D.

The old man smiled. "Your father would be proud," he said quietly.

For the first time in a long time, Hermann allowed a smile.

-

It was only a few hours later, as dusk began to fall, that Reese heard footsteps approaching as she waited in a small alcove of a narrow hall. Her eyes closed, she smiled, and felt Raven pass. She opened her eyes and stared at his back, and he spared half a glance over his shoulder at her.

She acknowledged Raven with a smirk and narrowing of her turquoise eyes. "Never thought I'd see you fighting on Flyheight's side again, Raven."

He turned a venomous glare to her. "What was that?"

She examined her nails. "Actually, I never thought I'd see you fighting without the Genobreaker." She brought wicked eyes to his again. "You always were one to hide behind your zoid."

With a growl, Raven grabbed Reese's wrists and slammed her back against the wall, caging her body with his own. Leaning in close, he snarled, "Don't mess with me, Reese." He tone became mocking. "Besides, rumor has it that you're Hermann's chief informant."

Reese shrugged, or as much as she was able, considering that her shoulders were trapped at an awkward angle. "It concerns matters you wouldn't understand."

"What, your pride?" The iron grip loosened slightly.

"Maybe." She half-shrugged again.

"You think I don't understand _pride,_ Reese?" Raven made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

Reese quirked her eyebrows. "Not _my_ pride, Raven. You don't know my sort of pride, not at all."

Raven rolled his eyes and finally dropped her wrists. "I'm not fighting with, alongside, or for Flyheight. I'm taking the only option left to me, which is to fight for the right to live. And," his tone turned icy, "I don't, nor have I ever, hidden behind my zoid."

"Unless you count your organoid." Ignoring his malevolent warning glare, Reese went on airily, "Where _is_ Shadow, by the way? Is he waiting...or has he abandoned you?" She raised her eyes to meet his again, but he didn't answer.

Raven's violet eyes were unreadable and stony, but after a moment, Reese's lips curved in a smile. "I see," she purred. "I always knew Shadow was special...but I never dreamed he could resist Eve's pull. Especially without the benefit of the presence of an Ancient Zoidian," she added as an afterthought and a sly twist of her gaze.

Raven hooded his eyes. "Yeah, well...Shadow is stronger than that."

"Of course he is, darling." Reese smirked at the flicker of discomfort that crossed his face, but then she cocked her head to the side, as if she was listening to something. After a few seconds, she focused her gaze on the hallway behind them. Raven followed her gaze, but when nothing happened for a moment, he opened his mouth to say something...and then Van rounded the corner.

The lieutenant drew up short, blinking in surprise. He clearly hadn't expected to see either Raven or Reese having a seemingly normal conversation in that particular hallway. He opened his mouth to break the awkward silence, but Reese cut him off.

"Well, come on, then, let's go." She waved at Raven, smirking. "See you around, _darling._ Flyheight, I _was_ talking to you, come on." Van hesitantly followed her. He and Raven each did his best to ignore the other, their earlier confrontation unacknowledged.

When Van finally caught up to Reese's brisk walk, he blurted, "Where are we going? And why? I haven't gotten any orders–"

"Your organoid."

"_What?_"

Reese shot him a scornful look. "Your organoid. What's-his-name. He's–"

"Zeke."

"Yeah, Zeke. He was sick, right?"

Van blinked. "Oh, yeah, he was. How did you–"

"The old man told me. I want to check on him."

Van stopped walking. Reese kept going, and he stared after her retreating back. He smiled faintly. _They really...aren't so different, after all._

Reese suddenly stopped, throwing an icy glare over her shoulder. "Stop comparing me to your girlfriend, would you?"

"Wha–!" Van's eyes went wide. "Stay out of my head!" he snapped indignantly.

Reese glare faded to a wicked smirk, and she turned and kept walking. Van hurried up to her side, his cheeks flushed. "If you mean Fiona–"

"Who else, stupid?"

"–then you're wrong. She's not my, um, girlfriend."

Reese rolled her eyes. "Whatever you want to call it." She rounded another corner and ducked into an open supply room. Or, at least, what was supposed to be a supply room.

About four or five mattresses had been spread on the floor of the large, dark room, spaced substantially away from each other. On the one closest to the door lay Zeke, stretched out on his side, snoring loudly. Reese spared him a quick glance, and then she went to the makeshift bed in the darkest corner.

Kneeling by the mattress, Reese smiled fondly. "Oh, there you are, love." Her organoid purred, pushing her head into her mistress's small hands. Reese ran her fingers over Specular's smooth blue metal plates, but found neither a scratch nor a scrape. "I see they've been treating you right...put them in their places if they don't."

The organoid hissed an affirmative, and Reese smiled in pride. "That's my girl." The girl dragged herself to her feet and walked back to where Van sat at Zeke's side. She glanced in the other corners of the room, but saw nothing. She shrugged. "Funny, I thought Shadow would be here. I should have known that he wouldn't, though. He has to keep an eye on Raven."

She knelt beside the silver organoid. She started to reach out to him, but hesitated. She smirked and said, "You know, I could return the favor and compare you to Raven." She met Van's dark eyes. "The only difference between the two of you is that you care."

Van glared at her, all surprise forgotten. "Is not. I'm not like him at all. He hates zoids, and besides..." His voice grew quieter. "Raven has killed so many times that it doesn't matter to him anymore."

Reese startled him again by laughing. "You can't be serious. First of all, Raven is just stubborn, and can't admit that he's wrong. He loves Shadow with all his heart, and would rather die than lose him again. Second of all..." She laughed again, more coldly this time.

"There is no way you can be that naïve. You have been fighting wars for about seven years now–do you honestly think that you haven't killed in that time? Practically the only zoid battles you've ever lost were against Raven, and you almost killed _him._

"Think about it. To completely disable a zoid, you would have to hit either the cockpit or the core, and the latter sets off an explosion large enough to destroy the cockpit, anyway. There aren't many survivors of a detonation like that." She stopped for breath. "So, tell me, Flyheight, how many lives have you stolen? And how many did you regret taking? I know for a fact that you didn't shed tears over Hiltz or Prozen's graves. Or Eve's, for that matter.

"I suppose I should be grateful that you couldn't quite manage to kill the mother of all zoids. Not that it's for lack of your trying, that is. Maybe, in the end, it falls on your shoulders, to drive the Zoid Eve to such anger that she–"

"Shut up."

Reese smirked at the quiet fury seething beneath the surface of Van's words. She shrugged in a half-hearted attempt to smother her amusement, and reached out her hands to stroke Zeke's snout.

The organoid awoke with a startled grunt, but then relaxed warily into her touch. Unlike Specular, his hide was scratched quite badly in some places, and at the base of his tail were what looked suspiciously like tooth-punctures. Reese ignored it and let her eyes drift shut and cleared her mind, an open invitation to the organoid before her. She could have forcefully extracted the information, but zoids were much more ancient and wise than the arrogant humans that presumed to claim them. It would have been equally arrogant and disrespectful to violate such a soul.

The organoid didn't seem as sick as the old man had claimed, and there was no reason to believe that he had never been less than this complacent. She frowned. Very odd. Without Fiona around, he should have at least lashed about a little...but there it was. The message she received from him was uselessly cryptic, and delighted in its simplicity.

_She's here._

-

"We're here." Thomas took a deep, steadying breath, and examined the computer equipment spread before him. He sat in the main control room of the Ultrasaurus, and a view of the looming mountains greeted his eyes. The Valley of the Rare Hertz was there, all of the zoids were there, and Fiona was there...all waiting.

Dawn was still a few hours away, and it was the time of night when everything was still, still to the point of insanity. He was alone in the darkened console area, and was grateful for the comforting hum of the monitor in front of him. The information scrolling across the screen told him that the Di-Bison was directly in the Ultrasaurus's path, waiting for the fortress zoid to come into range. Beke had been there, in fact, for a few hours, having overshot the time it would take the hindered zoid to reach the rendezvous point.

"I have...one minute." Thomas took another deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. He and Beke would have to target the barely-patched armor on the Ultrasaurus's chest–it was huge, and there was, supposedly, margin for error. Each of the cannons would have to hit the same place to bring down the zoid at least fifty times its size, though. One shot, one chance.

"Thirty seconds." The battle started at dawn. There wasn't a sleeping soul on the Ultrasaurus, excepting maybe the organoids. Everyone was too tense, waiting for the instant when the fortress zoid went crashing back down to the earth.

"Ten..." Thomas's finger hovered over the button that would send a signal to Beke. He tore his gaze briefly from the screen to strain his eyes against the darkness, but the Bison was cloaked in darkness. He turned back to the computer, and whispered, "Megalomax...fire." Then he pushed the button with a deep exhalation.

For a moment, it seemed that nothing would happen, and Thomas felt sickening despair welling within him. Then a low hum caught his attention, and he glanced outside in time to see a small star bloom jarringly below him. The Ultrasaurus shrieked in its low, haunting notes, and smoke billowed from its chest to plume around its neck. The world tilted crazily, and then the ground was rushing up to meet the zoid.

Thomas grabbed the more important equipment and braced himself against one of the many chairs perched on the upper console area. With a deep, jarring boom, the zoid finally came to a rest, its crushing descent halted by the beginnings of a valley on either of its sides.

Thomas hesitated, and then picked himself up unsteadily. A sharp grating sounded briefly, but shuddered to a stop. The zoid was damaged almost beyond repair, this time. Low creaks and groans echoed throughout the hull as the monstrous weight settled. Wobbling on the skewed floor, he muttered again, "We're here."

And with that, he knew that the point of no return was gone.


	8. The Age of Aquarius I

**The Second Renaissance**

**Part Four: The Age of Aquarius**

**-**

**I. Forte**

_ Through these fields of destruction, baptisms of fire;_

_ I've witnessed your suffering, as the battles raged higher;_

_ And though they did hurt me so bad,_

_ In the fear and alarm, you didn't desert me;_

_ My brothers in arms..._

_ -Dire Straits, _Brothers in Arms

-

She felt them. It was just a difference in the way that the cool, dank air laid on her skin–it was a shift that tingled down her spine, but she knew what it meant. They had arrived, prepared to meet their doom. She smiled as, inside the Valley of the Rare Hertz, everything stilled, and each zoid realized that its former tormenters had come. One by one, they rose in the darkness and started to the golden shimmer of dawn.

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, and sent minute, silver strands of power with them, her children. They emerged from the shadows and thundered by, their heavy steps causing her loose hair to tremble. More and more poured from the shadows, a seemingly never-ending stream of claws and teeth.

One, a Liger, lowered its huge head in passing, and she lovingly wrapped her arms around it. Her hands didn't even begin to reach halfway around, but she tried, anyway. The feline growled in apology and pulled reluctantly away from her hasty embrace, then followed its fellows into the light.

And so it began.

-

As Thomas stared out at the approaching ranks of zoids, he suddenly felt very alone. Granted, nine military jeeps with about fifty men and one organoid idled at the hooves of his zoid, but it didn't matter. From the cockpit, he couldn't see them, and it was as if he faced the sea of glittering optic lenses and pristine fangs as one man in a handicapped zoid, the machine's movements all but totally nixed with the added weight of two humming generators. The zoid was ominously tilted as well, on the dipping slope that was customary for the edges of the Rare Hertz desert.

The insistent thunder of approaching zoids chilled him to the bone, and he imagined that he could feel the ground trembling. The desert that preluded that maze of valleys called Rare Hertz was rapidly filling with hostile forces. Overhead, a collection of Storm Sworders, Redlars, and Pteras Strikers soared, bright sunlight glancing off their wings.

On the very front line of zoids sat columns upon columns of Shield Ligers. The glimmer of their rose-colored shields was nowhere to be seen. Others filled in behind them; Thomas caught a glimpse of a Redhorn's Gatling gun and a Gunsniper's long-distance rifle, and swallowed nervously. Though the base of the fallen Ultrasaurus was on the other side of the Rare Hertz desert, those weapons could take it out easily.

And yet they didn't.

The sudden crackle of the comm. link startled Thomas, and he jumped, but relaxed at the sound of Irvine's voice.

"Hey, Thomas, when is this getting under way? We're bored," he drawled.

Thomas swallowed again. "I-I don't know, really. We have to wait for the signal from base–and for the electromagnetic pulse." After a moment, he added quietly, "Besides, do you really want to attack _that?_ They're not even at full-strength, not yet."

Irvine was silent. Thomas thought for a moment that the line had gone dead, but the dull roar of marching zoids still came from the link; the un-muted sound filled the cockpit with an ominous racket. Finally, he replied, "How many...do you think there are?"

Thomas laughed, a bit hysterically. "They're all the zoids of Zi, what did you expect? At this rate, it's going to be five-to-one." He sobered and stared hard out the canopy's tinted glass; he couldn't bear to use the Beke unit's helmet, to see the statistics of each and every zoid that threatened them before his eyes. The thing would use too much of Beke's precious power, anyway. One hand holding his bangs from his eyes, he muttered, "What's the use? Why even bother?"

"Shut up." Irvine's tone was sharp. "Don't _you_ start talking like that, or else we're dead. Besides," he sighed. "We have to be the distraction of the main force so that Van and Reese can get past." His tone turned cynical. "That's why we're out here, isn't it?"

"I know, I know. Sorry." A Storm Sworder swooped down lower than the rest, so low that he could hear the scream of its speed. "They're testing us," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Seeing how far they can go before we–"

"Do you think Van is acting oddly?" It was obvious that Irvine was consumed by his own thoughts, and hadn't heard. His comment had the air of one that had been bothering him.

Thomas frowned. "No, why?"

"I dunno, it's just..." Irvine hesitated. "It's just like...he's too comfortable with Reese...and not worried enough about Fiona. Not like...before, you know?"

Thomas thought for a moment, absentmindedly cracking his knuckles. "He has...changed. Grown up, I guess. And I know what you mean, I think." Van _had_ seemed a bit more optimistic lately, and not as wound up as he was before. He frowned a little again. "It's almost like Reese..." He blinked in surprise.

"Like Reese has taken Fiona's place, right?" Irvine sounded extraordinarily grim, and Thomas realized that he must have come to a similar conclusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but a new link interrupted him.

"Is everyone in position?"

Thomas sighed in relief. "Yes, Colonel Hermann, sir, we are in position and ready to mobilize." He heard the exasperated exclamations from Irvine's end of the link, and smiled. "Just give the word, sir."

Hermann coughed. "Actually, Lieutenant Shubaltz, we have a bit of a problem."

Thomas's heart fell. "Which would be what?" He darted his nervous gaze over the ranks stretched out before him.

"The pulse's range isn't quite big enough. The zoids need to be, ah...closer."

Thomas heard himself ask faintly, "Do you want me to...to shoot at them?" _Oh, please, please, no..._

"If you would be so kind."

The color promptly drained from his face. For a moment, all he could see was the flash of an emerald optic lens, winking in the sunlight, and then he shook his head roughly. "I-I'm sorry, what was that?"

And then there was Karl's voice, calm and clear and steady. "Thomas, just get them a little closer. That's all we need, and then we can start in earnest."

Irvine glared at the jeep's comm. link for a moment, and then switched his gaze to the mass of milling zoids before him. He leaned against the frame of the vehicle and didn't say anything, just watched. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one Republican private swallow nervously. Everyone else was perfectly still.

Finally, Thomas's voice came, much quieter than before. "Yes, sir." The Di-Bison's hooves suddenly seemed to radiate intense heat, and they sank a little further into the loose desert sand. The generators hummed deafeningly, and the zoid lowered its head as the Megalomax cannons warmed.

The hum grew to a dull roar, and Irvine winced, resisting the urge to cover his ears. The vibrations echoed up from his feet and rattled his teeth. The roar grew in pitch, until it was almost a scream, and in such close proximity, Irvine wondered if something would shatter. Finally, the cannons fired in a tremendous crash, the intertwining golden beams shining like a second sun.

Twisting into the distance, the miniature star shot into the ranks of zoids with an earsplitting explosion, clouds of smoke twirling up into the morning's glow. For a breathless moment, nothing happened...and then one of them–a Liger, maybe–roared, a cry that strengthened with the voices of all the rest, a call to battle. And then they charged.

Irvine inhaled sharply and muttered, "You know, Thomas...that suddenly seems like it was a really bad idea." Thomas didn't answer.

Hundreds of clawed feet beat the ground, the booming steps of disaster coming ever closer. Irvine leaned heavily on the jeep's frame, his eyes hard. The flying regiment had doubled back to what he had come to think of as the zoids' base, and now turned sharply. Above the pandemonium of the larger, land-bound zoids, the Storm Sworder's boosters screamed as they gained speed.

Irvine swallowed hard. "They're going to use a sonic boom."

The private beside him became wide-eyed, and then drew in a deep breath. "I-I can't d-do this," he half-wailed, his hands shaking.

Irvine spared him a glare, and turned to face him. "Would you shut up?" He had to yell to be heard.

The young soldier half-rose. "But I don't want t-to–"

"You aren't going to _die!_" he roared. In a quick movement, he pulled out his revolver. "If you run, I _will_ shoot you." The private gave him a terrified look, and sank back down. Irvine flicked his glance at the others around him. None of them looked likely to desert now. He caught Raven's eyes briefly, from where he stood by Shadow's side; the maverick just rolled his eyes.

Satisfied, Irvine turned his gaze back to the rapidly approaching zoids. The Shield Ligers stayed in front, their shields now activated. They were close enough for him to pick out the distinctive bobbing movement of Zaber Tigers, just beyond the front line. The sands thundered with their advance.

Narrowing his eyes, Irvine grabbed the comm. link. "Hermann, just wondering, but how close is close?"

"Not much further, Irvine. They're almost within range."

"I hope so." They were too close, surely. The pulse wouldn't move fast enough to disable the zoids. Closer, closer... They were close enough to use short-range weapons, missiles, anything. The zoids seemed to want to destroy manually all the humans they could, by teeth, claws, and sheer might alone. Irvine felt his breath quicken. "Now would be good," he growled, his rough fingers clenching the link too tightly.

"Be patient."

"I don't care. _Now._"

The Shield Ligers took one last leap and landed in a crouch, their huge paws dashing up sand in golden arcs. The Zaber Fangs behind them leapt to the sky, their jaws open in a soundless snarl, their razor-sharp claws outstretched to destroy the humans that sat, helpless, below them, halfway sheltered by the Di-Bison.

Despite himself, Irvine squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. A jarring boom startled him into opening them again, though...in time to see the Zabers plow heavily into the sand, their optic lenses dark. The electromagnetic pulse ripped through the charging zoids, throwing them to the ground in a single sweep. Three Storm Sworders spiraled to the sand with monstrous explosions, followed by the other flying zoids.

Irvine took a moment to snarl, "That was _too_ close," into the link before yelling to the soldiers, "C'mon, let's move!"

Raven smirked and turned to Shadow. "You heard him, let's go." The sable organoid roared in agreement and flung his chest cavity open. Raven allowed himself to be enveloped in silver-blue light, and then the sensation of flight overtook him: the absolute weightlessness, and a jarring thump that reported certain success.

When the technicolor afterimages had faded from his vision, Raven gave a satisfied smile. "Not bad, Shadow." He ran gloved hands over the familiar controls of the hapless Genosaurer the organoid had chosen, and then cast his gaze over the landscape. All around were collapsed zoids, lifeless and boring. Raven rolled his eyes, and let the Genosaurer idle. Suddenly, a visual link popped up on the dash.

"Raven! What do you think you're doing?" Thomas looked quite angry, oddly enough.

Raven shrugged, glaring at the lieutenant. "Waiting. It would be boring to destroy them all when they can't fight back."

"That's not what I mean! You're not _following orders._"

"Sorry, I don't do orders." He lowered his eyebrows. "I fight, and that's all. I'm going to give these things as close to a fair fight as I can, which is more than they'll do for you." He smirked again. "Better get rid of those generators, if you want to fight at all." He darted his gaze to the side. "Oh, look, they're waking up. Have fun," he drawled, then cut the connection.

True enough, the zoids scattered around him were recovering; there was a Molga, a Guysack, two Command Wolves, and a Rev Raptor. Not bad, not bad at all. Raven flipped the switch to activate the foot locks, and started charging the Particle Beam. As the white-hot glow grew to a dazzling blaze, Raven sighed in happiness. "It feels good to be back, Shadow." The organoid growled in reply, and Raven smiled. "Fire."

The Beam erupted into a destructive ray of light, instantly wiping out half the zoids before him. Raising one foot lock, Raven twisted the aim to include the rest that were readying their own weapons. The stress on the support made it groan softly, but it didn't shatter like before.

When the dense electrical smoke cleared, a wide radius of destruction surrounded him. Satisfied, Raven darted a glance to base, and was glad to see that reinforcements were on the way. He whirled the zoid around to face the main force. The others would be fine–only a small resistance stood behind him. Rows upon rows of gleaming claws and teeth faced him, the stunned zoids having pulled themselves from an electromagnetically induced stupor.

Raven chuckled to himself. "Aww, look, Shadow, I think they're angry." Shadow didn't reply, that time.

The 'Saurer's foot locks drove heavily into the ground, and he began to charge the Particle Beam. Something roared from behind the glare of the Beam, but then Raven lowered his eyebrows and released the blinding destruction. As the dense smoke cleared, he scowled. There were too many of them–he had only carved a Genosaurer-sized hole in the ranks. They streamed past him, heading straight for the Ultrasaurus.

Anger sparked in his pale eyes. "Don't you _dare_ ignore me!" he yelled, and took careful aim. The Genosaurer's claw shot across the stampede of feral machinery, and buried itself deeply into a Redhorn's bulky shoulder joint. With another yell, Raven began the mighty, relentless retraction.

Groaning, the Redhorn went down, and crashed into a Command Wolf racing by. Dragging the large zoid back towards him, Raven smirked as he affected a multi-zoid pile-up, the cable clotheslining one after another. He peppered them all with blasts from his plasma cannons, and finally dared a look behind him.

"What's taking them so _long?_" He yanked sharply on the line, and whipped it home. The wounded Redhorn somersaulted into a white Shield Liger and exploded mightily. Raven furiously punched open a general comm. link and roared, "Come on, what are you waiting for!"

Irvine, considerably pale under his tan, winced at the maverick's tone. Even from behind the orange canopy of a zoid, those approaching looked much closer than they should have been. He had claimed a Blade Liger; he may have fancied it to be Van's, but for that it was a nondescript grey. He nervously eyed the unfamiliar controls, and shot a look around at the others.

Beside him, a Rev Raptor rose and shook its head; giving a reptilian hiss, it promptly charged. Irvine bit his lip and gunned the boosters, following suit. A few hundred feet of empty sand...and then the enemies were all around him, a rushing river of glittering optic lenses. He slammed down the Liger's right paw and deployed the blades, slicing through the ranks in a single and fluid move as the zoid pivoted.

Without stopping to survey the resulting damage, Irvine twisted the Liger around and resumed his forward charge against the stampede of zoids, fighting to get closer to Raven. If they all remained separate units, they would be easy targets. It was lucky that the wild zoids were so focused on their goal of the Ultrasaurus, for they hadn't stopped to seek out what could be the only resistance against them.

There, up ahead, were the blasts of the Charged Particle Beam. The blinding flashes of light, echoed by booming explosions, reported Raven's success. The rushing zoids before him suddenly swelled and quickened, pushing Irvine further and further back.

The Liger roared, and reared back dangerously on its hind legs in an attempt to keep its balance. He gritted his teeth, shoving the stabilizers down. "What–! What is going _on?_" He was suddenly blinded, though, as everything seemed to freeze in an array of white-hot light, and managed to twist the zoid down to fall heavily onto its side.

The flash faded, and Irvine shook his head roughly, his eyes tearing up. He pushed up his treasured binocular eye patch and scrubbed at his left eye furiously. He darted a look up, and gasped. The black Genosaurer Raven was using stood directly before him; the only thing blocking the view were piles of ash.

"Raven!" he yelled, opening a visual comm. link. "You _shot_ at me!"

"Oops," was the infuriatingly insincere reply. "I suppose that means you should get out of my way, doesn't it?"

Irvine struggled to right the Blade Liger, cursing its bulk and Raven, all in the same breath. "_You're_ the one who called for help," he shot back.

Raven snorted. "I didn't call anyone. I just don't want to do all the work. Besides," he smirked and narrowed his eyes, "I was under the impression that this was a team effort." He whirled the 'Saurer around to clip a passing Command Wolf with its tail.

"But _you're_ the one that won't take help! You're the one–" Irvine spluttered indignantly, firing sporadically at a Gordos' legs, crippling it to be trampled by its fellows.

"No, that's not what I mean." Raven drove the foot locks back down to the sands, and powered up the Particle Beam for another round. "What I _mean_ is," he shot a look at Irvine, "can _you _keep up with _me?_" On "me," he fired, and Irvine narrowly ducked the facetiously aimed blast.

As the Liger skidded to a stop, Irvine tucked the boosters back from their reverse position and could only stare at the Genosaurer for a few long seconds. "You punk," he muttered, chuckling. "You absolute _punk._"

Raven smirked. "Naturally."

Irvine made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. _Just like Van...they act so alike._ Before he could totally finish his thought, though, Raven interrupted again.

"While we're on the subject of team effort and all..." He trailed off. When met with Irvine's blank expression, he gave an exasperated sigh. "The kid with the Di-Bison? Did you lose him, or something?"

Irvine blinked in surprise, then lowered his eyebrows and turned back towards the Ultrasaurus. "Hey! Thomas! Are you having problems, or what?"

Thomas spared him a look, frantically targeting the zoids around him. Sweat rolled off his face in miserable washes of heat as the temperature in the cockpit rose steadily. As a Helcat before him exploded in a burst of black electrical smoke, he growled, "Shut it, Irvine, not now."

"Just get up here with us, we need you to help pick these things off–your zoid totes more firepower than these do, I think." Irvine sounded exhilarated more than anything, and Thomas scowled, wiping his forehead with an equally damp sleeve.

"I...can't." He gritted his teeth. "The Bison will overheat." At that precise moment, the cockpit's clean overhead lighting turned a very angry crimson.

"What? You can't be serious." Irvine laughed, somewhat incredulously. "You _still_ have those generators?"

"Ye-es..." He squinted and cursed to himself, seeing the still-advancing ranks of zoids. "Don't they ever _end?_" he muttered.

Then, glancing around to be sure of the reassuring presence of backup, he yelled, "Commence counterattack now! Do not let them reach the Ultrasaurus!"

Amid the chorus of "Yes, sir!"s, Thomas heard Irvine sigh. "I would suggest getting rid of those things, _now_."

"Beke needs them to run, I can't."

There was a muffled voice from the other end of the link, and Irvine snickered. "Raven says to tell you you're an idiot."

Thomas glared at him and yelled, "Fine! _Fine._" He slammed his fist into the side console, releasing the magnetic locks. The Bison immediately straightened as the humming generators fell with a crash. Amid the fountains of golden sands, the sweltering cockpit's temperature finally started to lower. The red warning lights dimmed to a neutral amber.

"There, you happy?" he snapped.

Irvine grinned at him. "Yes, quite." And then he cut the link.

Thomas rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the battlefield. "C'mon, Beke, target all of them you can." A shrill whistle answered him, and the charging zoids before him suddenly sported red crosses. He stripped off his gloves and threw them to the floor in disgust, then resumed his grip on the main steering column. "Fire!"

The battlefield erupted mightily into smoke and flame.

-

Bright explosions bloomed beneath the dimmed observation deck of the Ultrasaurus. Van held his breath, his hands pressed anxiously to the cool glass, as a silver Helcat launched itself at the huge zoid. A seemingly lucky shot caught it in midair, and it collapsed into flames.

He sighed, relaxing a little. That was the closest one yet, and he and Reese hadn't even left. She was off making so-called "preparations," which left him frustratingly idle. Another bright flash below caught his attention again.

The battlefield was a wild mêlée, a kaleidoscope of more zoids than one could ever imagine. Crashing blows and animalistic sounds echoed against the valley's walls. Thomas was at one end, desperately defending the area closest to the Ultrasaurus, and Raven was at the very edge, picking off enemies in groups of at least ten at a time. Van clenched his teeth; every bit of his inner logic rebelled against the concept that Thomas, Irvine, and _Raven_ were out there, fighting...and he wasn't.

He leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. Reese had mentioned to him that it was his obligation to go find Fiona, at this point. As much as he would have appreciated fighting for the humans of Zi, he had a duty to Fiona. Something of a promise he could never break. It was understandable and acceptable, because he felt the same way, like he'd always known it was his duty and right, that she was his responsibility.

Of course, Reese had the most right to speak of duty. She understood that her pride as an Ancient Zoidian was at stake, and she had to preserve the dignity of her race by putting an end to the madness. She had recognized that she couldn't do it alone, and asked the very people she hated for help. Of course, she acted like she was doing them all a favor. That her actions held some rationalization was a bitter deduction, mostly because of her attitude about the whole thing.

Van wasn't entirely sure how they were to get to Evopolis unnoticed, nor did he really understand what Reese had meant when she referred to Fiona as "their new Eve." As wrong as it felt, he would have to place all his trust in Reese, and Reese's pride. Surely, that was all that was dictating her actions and judgment.

The sound of soft footsteps brought him from his reverie. He sighed and straightened, then turned to the door, muttering, "It's about time, Reese, what took–" The words died on his lips.

The Empress Marianne stood in the doorway, tears glistening on her cheeks and her dark eyes wide. She clearly hadn't expected to see anyone on the observation deck, and suddenly Van felt very uncomfortable.

"Um...sorry. I'll just, uh...leave. Sorry." He started forward, averting his eyes.

"No, no, you're fine." The young girl smiled thinly at him and scrubbed her cheeks. "Don't go, you were here first." Then she focused on the view behind him, and her eyes grew wide with shock again. "Oh, wow." She moved past Van in a rustle of skirts to press her hands against the window.

After a silent moment, Van shifted uncomfortably. "Are you...okay, um, Highness?"

Marianne looked at him sharply, but waited a few beats before answering. "Lieutenant Flyheight? Do not...call me that."

Van stared at her. "Then what would you have me call you?"

The girl suddenly looked very tired. "If anything, Lady Marianne." She turned her gaze back to the battlefield and whispered, "I am no Empress." Another booming explosion illuminated her features in ghostly light.

Van swallowed hard. "Why do you say that?"

"I can't run my country, I can't defend it. I can't inspire respect or hold any sort of power. I'm utterly useless–too young to make a difference, and too old to be apathetic...I can't rule." She said it all in a soft monotone, without ever taking her eyes from the battlefield before her.

Van stared at the depressed girl, the beginnings of pity in his eyes. "How old are you, Marianne?"

She looked to him levelly. "Sixteen. Seventeen in two months." A challenge grew in her eyes, almost daring him to contradict her.

He shrugged. "That's not too young. Really, it isn't."

Marianne blinked, then turned back to staring at the battle. "What were you doing when you were sixteen, Lieutenant?"

"Um...training with Krueger. I think." He frowned. "I can't really remember."

She nodded, and her gaze lost its focus as she sighed heavily. "They think I'm a child."

Van blinked, suddenly very confused. "Who does?"

"All of them. Colonel Shubaltz, especially. I'm just a load of trouble, to them. I probably shouldn't have come." She laughed softly. "Rudolph will be so angry." The last bit was mostly to herself, and tears started to well in her eyes again.

Van sighed and searched his mind for something to say. He turned his gaze to his reflection in the glass, willing a comforting word to come to his mouth...but then, his eyes focused on the battle beyond the window. A red Zaber Fang suddenly burst forth from the mêlée. With a powerful leap, it surged into the air. Its claws outstretched, its empty cockpit glimmered in the erratic muzzle flashes surrounding it, and the emerald optic lens seemed to focus, to stare straight at the Ultrasaurus...straight at him.

Van gasped and lurched forward, grabbing Marianne's wrist. She squeaked as he dragged her forcefully from the window. "Lieutenant–what are you–"

"Please, your Highness," he muttered raggedly, lapsing into habitual respect. "Just run."

Weaving between control panels and anchored chairs, Van yanked the Empress of the Guylos Empire along...until a massive shadow fell across the far wall. He threw the girl in front of him and crouched with his arms around her narrow shoulders.

There was a full second of absolute silence, and then the observation deck erupted into flying shards of glass and roaring flames. Marianne shrieked, and managed to make herself smaller, trembling against Van's chest. He kept his eyes firmly shut, even as something thudded numbly into his bare arm, and the glass cut into his cheeks.

Finally, the rain of stinging shards lessened and slowed. Van stood, blinking blood from his eyes. Marianne clung helpless to him, her wide eyes riveted on the scene behind them. He turned to look, and flinched. The Zaber was dead, attacked from behind in its kamikaze attack on the Ultrasaurus, and was firmly wedged into the small window space. Flames licked at its claws and gaping jaws, and the roars and explosions of the battle filtered in.

He shook his head and extended his hand to Marianne, where she still knelt on the floor. She blinked at him and whispered, "Lieutenant, y-you're bleeding."

Van scowled and impatiently mopped his cheeks with his sleeve. It came away streaked with crimson. "I'm fine, don't worry." He held out his hand again. "We need to get out of here."

She hesitantly took it and pulled herself to her feet. She started limping slowly to the door, supporting herself on the desks anchored to the floor. Van came behind her and scooped her up, going into the hall at a quick walk.

"Sorry, ma'am," he panted. "But we have to get to the main control room as soon as possible." Marianne didn't answer, just clung desperately to his neck, terrified.

A sharp, jerking pain at his right forearm made him yelp in surprise. He glanced over his shoulder to see Reese walking briskly beside him. She examined the two-inch shard of bloody glass in distaste. "I can't leave you alone for ten minutes, can I?"

He glared at her. "Shut up, Reese. Now's not the time." Marianne stared at the Ancient Zoidian, wide-eyed.

Reese shrugged. "Whatever. What happened?"

Reaching a doorway, Van shoved it open with his shoulder. "A Zaber Fang attacked the observation deck. The damage is confined to that area, though."

Reese didn't seem surprised, but just nodded thoughtfully. "I see."

Starting up the flight of stairs to the main control room's elevator, Van said sharply, "When are we going to leave?"

"Whenever you're ready. I would, however," she eyed his bloody appearance, "suggest you change your clothes."

He rolled his eyes at her and stepped inside the open elevator. The navigation controls glowed in an otherwise dark area, and Reese joined him in the eerie light. The elevator began to lift soundlessly, and the ride was less than two minutes long. As the doors opened into the clean light of the main control room, the spectacle they made created an amazing disturbance, consisting mostly of horrified gasps.

"Lieutenant Flyheight!" Hermann looked almost angry, but anxious more than anything. "What happened?"

Van sighed and gently set Marianne on her feet. "A Zaber Fang attacked the observation deck, sir. It is no longer functional, but caused a small fire."

Karl started forward. "Is Her Majesty unharmed?"

"Yes, just shaken." He turned to Hermann, saluting tiredly. "Reese and I will be leaving shortly."

Hermann nodded, returning the salute. "Understood, soldier. Good luck."

Van turned to see Reese waiting impatiently in the doorway. He looked back to Marianne, noticing for the first time that her cheeks were smudged with his blood. Placing a hand on her head, he leaned in close and whispered, "You _are_ an Empress." As her eyes widened, he pulled away with a little smile to join an exasperated-looking Reese.

As the elevator's doors hissed shut behind them, he heard Marianne plaintively call, "Be careful, Lieutenant."

-

As the Di-Bison's cannons powered down, Thomas heaved a sigh of relief. It seemed that the suffocating onslaught of enemy forces was finally beginning to lessen. Even though the main defensive line had been pushed back to the very shadow of the Ultrasaurus, they were holding it strongly. It was almost over. _Over._

There had been the Zaber, though... The sight of the tiger-zoid launching itself at the humans' base of operations had stilled his breath in horror. But no urgent reports had come from the control room, and so they carried on.

Most of the recruits behaved like dignified soldiers, an organized firing line of death. There were, however, those impressionable few... Thomas glared at the front lines, where a Blade Liger and a Genosaurer slashed their way indiscriminately through the ranks of pilotless zoids. A motley collection of slower zoids straggled after them.

Thomas ground his teeth. "Irvine, you're making my soldiers break rank," he muttered.

The mercenary laughed. "So what? We need a few out here to cut down on how many get through to you."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "That's not the point."

Irvine shrugged, lazily pivoting the zoid around to slice through the chest of a Rev Raptor. It collapsed with a hiss. "What difference does it make, so long as they're doing something? If they can keep up, I don't care. Besides," he grinned. "Didn't Hermann say that all _three_ of us would be leading factions?"

"No," Raven replied flatly. "I am not babysitting any snot-nosed little Republicans out here. Absolutely not. They can get themselves killed without me."

"Or Imperials," Irvine added. "Don't worry, they wouldn't follow you, anyway."

"Good," came the stiff reply.

Irvine darted a glance behind him, and smirked at the sight of about ten zoids trailing behind him, imitating his leaps and kills. Not that there was much left to kill–the resistance was thinning at an absurd rate, almost as if the humans were actually winning.

"Hey, Thomas." _Winning?__ No way. It's too soon for that._

"What do you want?" Thomas sounded exasperated. "I'm kinda in the middle of something, here."

"Doesn't this seem at bit too...easy?"

"Maybe for you. Don't brag, it isn't becoming."

Irvine scowled. "That's not what I _mean._ We hardly have any enemy forces up here."

"Oh. Uh. Well, we still have plenty, if you care to help."

Irvine rolled his eyes, slashing through one of the last Dark Horns in the area. "No, never mind." He stopped the zoid and looked to where he'd last seen Raven. The 'Saurer stood atop a large sand dune, unmoving. Irvine frowned and started toward him.

"Sir? Where are you going?" The comm. came from a white Command Wolf to his right.

Irvine waved him off. "Oh, nothing–I'll be right back, you guys stay here."

The Liger trudged through the sand alone, and finally, the eerie silence of the desert that had previously been churned into golden waves seemed to be a tangible thing. Irvine swallowed hard. "Raven? Something wrong?"

The reply was a moment in coming, and when it did, Raven's voice was quiet. "You thought it was too easy?"

"Y-yeah...why?"

"Well, it was. And _that_ is why."

Irvine frowned again, but then the Liger crested the rise, revealing exactly what _that_ was. His eyes widened as he took in the ranks of Iron Kongs, Gun Snipers, Stealth Cobras, and so many more, waiting at the edge of the battlefield. From the other end of the faintly bowl-shaped desert, they should have been visible...but must have moved in after the first assault.

There: a flash of crimson–Raven's Genobreaker. And, undoubtedly, his precious Lightning Saix, as well. The real threat was the zoids that hadn't been present. The elite. Those specially developed by the respective countries. Those zoids were poised for action right before him.

He fumbled for the comm. link switch. "H-hey, Thomas?"

"Irvine? What are you _doing?_ We aren't here to sightsee, get down here and help!"

"Were there any fatalities?" So many grinning fangs and clawed feet, ready to charge. They were waiting motionlessly until the moment when the humans had killed the others, until they thought they'd won. The others...the _decoys_.

"What? Uh...no, I don't think so."

Irvine barely heard his own faint reply. "Good. We're going to need them. All of them."


	9. The Age of Aquarius II

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**_Tralala... Wow, this is going fast. I've really missed posting. Oh, and I've done a lotta art for this--the links tomy deviantARTaccount isin my bio, but most of the stuff I've done, I did quite a while ago. Ergo, it isn't presentable. Maybe I'll find some of the better ones and post them, or something. _

_Anyways. It was right around this chapter that I started having serious fantasies about a badass-Reese/Eve-Fiona catfight. It would be so cool, I swear. And I mean on somewhat level ground...god, this is what techno does to me. Make it stop._**

* * *

**

**The Second Renaissance**

**Part Four: The Age of Aquarius**

**-**

**II. Nexus**

_"In terms of prophecy, we are currently in an epoch of enormous change. The millennium has recently passed, and with it has ended the two-thousand-year-long Age of Pisces... As any astrological symbologist will tell you, the Piscean ideal believes that man must be told what to do by higher powers because man is incapable of thinking for himself. Now, however, we are entering the Age of Aquarius–the water bearer–whose ideals claim that man will learn the truth and be able to think for himself. The ideological shift is enormous, and it is occurring right now..."_

_-Dan Brown, _The Da Vinci Code

-

The chilling silence that captivated the battlefield lasted only a short while. With a roar, the zoids charged in an overwhelming wave of doom. A charged particle beam roared across the sand, melting it into globules of molten glass. In answer, Raven's Genosaurer responded with a similar attack.

And so, the true battle for survival began.

Reese slowly approached the outer guardrail of the Ultrasaurus' hull, a smile balanced on her lips. Explosions echoed deeply from the battlefield, the roars and dying screams of clashing zoids blending together into a cacophonous tumult. The hot afternoon sun burned away the last remnants of the morning's haze, revealing the steep walls of the Valley of the Rare Hertz that were so touchably close.

Running her tongue over her teeth, Reese ginned and tightened her gloves. Experimentally clenching her fists, she murmured, "Are you ready, Specular?"

Harshly clanking footsteps and a soft hiss answered her. Reese clapped her hands and pulled her goggles from their perch amongst her bangs to cover her eyes. Viewing the world in a deep, rich green, she shot a glance over her shoulder. "What about _you?_ Are _you_ ready?"

Van stood behind her, a hand on his organoid's neck. He nodded, his face set in grim determination. Reese noted with slight irritation that he'd ignored her advice and was wearing the plain white short-sleeved shirt he'd worn for the last day or so. He'd refused the heavy jacket and shoulder holster she'd suggested, as well. He had, however, managed the small mobile comm. link that clipped directly onto the ear, as well as the double holster-combination-harness that allowed for more mobility and storage of equipment. It was empty, but for a few loops of rope.

She rolled her eyes and checked her own paraphernalia. Her jacket–idiot, he'd regret it soon enough–was rolled to her elbows and rubbed comfortably against the revolver tucked under her shoulder. A metal flashlight bumped against her right thigh, and a tight coil of rope swished against her left.

Satisfied, Reese smirked. Yes, they were all ready. She stretched her arms. "Well, then...let's fly." With that, she grabbed one of Specular's mandibles and swung up to perch precariously on the organoid's shoulders. She grinned and mentally urged Specular on. With no further provocation, the organoid took off.

Specular swooped dangerously low into the battlefield, and Reese clenched her hands tighter on the organoid's mandibles. The battle was suddenly right _there_, not something far away and irrelevant. A Liger leapt forward to rip out the throat of a nameless opponent, and roared in bloodlust. An Iron Kong beat its chest and swung around to deck a Red Horn, burying its mighty fist deep into the other zoid's innards. A Hel-Digunner hissed, darting forward to latch onto a Rev Raptor, stubbornly holding on until its opponent's leg collapsed. Reese shivered and hugged Specular's neck tighter, throwing her gaze to the Valley walls before them.

It was as she scanned the rock for the familiar cleft that Specular suddenly hissed and twisted midair. Reese shrieked and locked her feet together as the organoid leaned into a barrel roll. A sizzling violet beam roared by where they'd been just seconds earlier. She flattened her body to Specular's back, but clenched her jaw as the organoid shuddered–she'd been hit.

Reese's world tilted even more crazily, and lurched at a dangerous angle to the ground. She looked up in time to see the Rare Hertz desert rushing straight at her face. Specular slammed into the sand, and her tight grip was wrenched loose. She hit the ground hard on her back and rolled, the abrasive sand burning her bare skin; she tumbled to a stop lying flat on her back and staring at the cerulean sky. After a few seconds, she sat up with a hand on her dizzy head, blinking furiously. The sky and desert swirled into one for a moment, and then finally arranged themselves, reality seeping back in the roars of battling zoids. The sand shuddered faintly with each massive explosion.

"Reese!"

She turned in time to see Van swing from Zeke's back. The organoid, thus unburdened, shuffled to where Specular lay, stretched out on the sand. Reese gasped and scrambled across the sands to the blue organoid's side. She swatted Zeke away, and Van knelt on Specular's other side, pulling his goggles down to rest around his neck.

Her frantic hands explored the organoid's hide, even though the trouble was painfully obvious: the left portion of Specular's back was melted, and one booster was almost totally destroyed. Reese swallowed hard. "Specular? Can you...move?"

By way of answering, the organoid hissed softly and struggled to her feet. Reese let out her breath in a weary sigh and relaxed. Sinking back down, she met Van's eyes.

He blinked at her. "Well...what now?"

She pushed her flight goggles up wearily and looked to the Valley walls, the base of them only a hundred feet away. She pointed to where the shadows seemed to lie oddly in the bright afternoon sunlight. "There. We go down to the Kaiser's old cave."

She dragged herself to her feet and put a hand on Specular's shoulder. "But not you." She narrowed her pale eyes and pointed to Zeke. "Or you." She glanced at Van. "They'll have to go the long way around."

"What? Why?"

"Because." She started walking, limping a little. "The stairwell is too narrow. Organoids don't fit." The cool shadow of the Valley fell across her, and she peered up, pointing. "There, see? They'll go up and over and meet us inside."

Specular brushed past her and buried her clawed feet deeply into the rosy stone. With a powerful kick, the organoid leapt off the ledge and touched off on ladder-like outcrops, gaining altitude at an alarming rate. Zeke followed, more slowly and reluctantly. Both Van and Reese stared after them until the glaring reflection of the sun prevented it.

Reese shook her head and started towards the seemingly solid cliff wall. She glanced irritably at Van, who hadn't moved. "Come on, already." Then she slipped into the rock.

Van blinked, dubiously following her, and found himself in a shady alcove. Reese stood before him, a blank look on her face as she stared into a three-foot wide hole in the ground, gaping into the solid rock. He glanced around; that was it, the only thing in the small space.

As Reese muttered, "I don't understand...what happened?" he finally grasped the situation. The so-called "stairwell" wasn't there.

With the scuff of his boot, Van confirmed the obvious: the loosened pebbles tumbled down into a dizzying drop, a hollow clacking echoing back. He didn't wait for them to hit bottom. Turning to Reese, he said uneasily, "Is it, ah, supposed to be like that?"

She recovered and shot back derisively, "Why? You scared?" But, after a moment of staring into the sheer black drop, her expression changed to one of slight despair. "But, no. There used to be steps." She coughed. "A _lot_ of steps."

Van shrugged, unhooking the coil of rope from his belt. "Well, we'll just have to rappel down. No big deal."

Reese stared into the black hole uneasily. "Yeah, I guess."

-

The light at the very top of the vertical tunnel was just beginning to fade to nothing when Van heard Reese swear loudly.

He locked his gear, then peered down past his feet, where he could barely see a dim spot of blue. "Reese? You okay?"

She looked up at him, yelling, "The stupid cave's full of water!"

"Uh-oh." Van turned his gaze up, to the tiny circle of light so far above them. _We can't go back up, it's too far..._ He glanced down again and said, "We have to keep going, there's no other way."

When Van's voice echoed down to her, Reese's eyes went wide in disbelief. "What! But it's _cold!_" She shook off her wet foot again, shuddering at the memory of the sensation of freezing water seeping into her boot.

"Deal with it! Come _on, _Reese."

She scowled, wrapping the rope above her around her left wrist several times, then went with her right hand to unhook the heavy clip suspending her above the water. "Easy for _him_ to say," she grumbled. "_He_ didn't just get his foot dunked in that stuff." Finally, she was hanging free, supported only by her left hand. "Are you _sure?_" she yelled.

"Reese. Go. Now."

She grimaced, and took a moment to pull her goggles over her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut out of reflex, and released the rope. She plunged into the water feet first, and only went down a few feet before surging up again to break the surface, gasping. "Holy...freaking..._cold_..." She glared up malevolently to Van's form, and growled, "C-come on in, the water's g-great."

A couple of seconds later, he did, splashing down beside her. He struggled to the surface, gasping from the shock. "_Gods. _That's..._cold._"

Reese, her teeth chattering, glowered at him. "Brilliant. Bloody freaking b-brilliant. Now what, genius?"

Van returned her glare through the green glass of his own goggles, but then held out his hand. "Give me your flashlight," he demanded. She sighed and handed it over. Taking a deep breath, he ducked underwater, and managed to keep Reese from kicking him in the head. The flashlight's beam did nothing to penetrate the gloom, only illuminating the jagged rock wall to his right, and a murky view of the uneven floor. He kicked hard, and broke the surface again, spitting water.

Reese looked to him expectantly. "Well? Any more b-bright ideas?" Her chattering teeth made it difficult to look menacing.

Van clicked the light off, throwing them into semi-darkness. "I hope you're a good swimmer."

"You can't b-be _serious._" Reese clenched her jaw and clipped her words. "The entrance to the city is too far. We won't make it."

Van shrugged. "Not if you think like that–or if we keep sitting here, for that matter. Treading water will only make us tired," he added.

Reese glared at him, gritting her teeth. After a moment, though, she sighed. "Fine. Fine. If we die, it's your fault." She grabbed her flashlight back from him and flicked it on. She tested the tightness of her goggles again, and with one last vehement scowl, took a deep breath and dove.

Van gave a triumphant, "Heh," and followed closely after her.

The cave was quite a lot bigger than he'd first expected, stalagmites jutting up to meet their cousins in an endless jagged landscape. There was no visible life in the cavern, but that was probably due to a groundwater leak of some sort...which would explain why it was so cold.

The pressure steadily increased, pressing ominously on his ears as he ducked down to avoid hitting the toothed stalactites. The muted beam of Reese's flashlight bounced around on the rocks below them, briefly illuminating vague shapes. The deafening silence pressed in with simple and relentless force, broken only by the muted burbling of air bubbles rising to some invisible surface.

Hours seemed to pass in the murky gloom, even though Van knew for a fact that he could only hold his breath for two minutes. The water made everything dreamlike and slow, and the gliding texture of the water added to the illusion of a trance.

A flashlight beam in Van's face startled him into pulling up sharply. Reese glared at him from behind the light, her hair in a cerulean halo around her pale features. She gestured emphatically at a slender crack in the jagged cave wall. Studying it, Van realized that it was the passage; upheavals after the Deathsaurer's final resistance had disengaged the cave's floor and made it almost level with the ceiling.

He waved at her; she rolled her eyes and swam up to the crack in a flurry of opalescent bubbles, sliding through with little room to spare. He followed gingerly behind in the almost pitch-black water, and squirmed through the opening. Smooth rock stretched before his nose in bare, bouncing illumination, and he pushed off with his hands, only to burst unexpectedly through the surface.

Reese looked back at him, and rolled her eyes again. She pulled her goggles down to rest around her neck and flipped soggy bangs from her eyes. "Hurry up." She shivered. "It's c-cold." With that, she turned and sloshed away through the now waist-deep water.

Van yanked his own goggles off and followed her, ruffling a hand through his hair. The water became increasingly shallower, until it lapped at his knees. Slanted stairs climbed crazily from the dark water, and Reese perched on the top step, catching her breath. The light sat beside her and shone toward the distant ceiling. Van sat down heavily at her side, and vigorously shook out his hair, throwing water droplets everywhere.

After a few drippy moments, Reese fumbled for the flashlight at her side, her teeth chattering. She heaved herself onto her knees, and clicked it on, sweeping the beam around in a wide arc. When the dark stone fell away into the surrounding darkness, she squinted hard, almost certain that it was the right passage.

But then she caught a glimpse of something no girl should ever hope to see: two golden eyes, glinting at her from the inky black. Reese shrieked and promptly dropped the flashlight, plunging them back into darkness.

Van sighed, his hands already slapping wetly on the rock in search of the light. "Smooth move, Reese."

She gasped indignantly. "Don't blame me! There's something _there!_ "

"Really." Van closed his fingers on the light, and smacked it a few times, watching it for signs of life. After a moment, the bulb flickered back into being, successfully high beaming him. Blinking his eyes hard, Van held the light to his temple and squinted into the darkness. After a moment, he turned to Reese with a skeptical expression. "Chicken. It's just your dumb organoid."

Reese coughed in surprise and pushed herself to her feet, shivering. "Specular?" A soft hiss answered her, and she sighed. "Well, it scared _me._ Come on, let's keep going." She smoothed her hair down and out of her eyes, trying to tuck it into some semblance of order. She stood, peeling off her jacket to wring it out over the stone floor. Pulling off the mobile comm. link, she threw it to the floor and stamped on it in disgust. "Stupid thing," she muttered. "The water ruined it."

The beam of the flashlight shone brightly past her. "Zeke? Hey, Zeke?" A growl answered Van, and the silver organoid slipped around Specular to greet his master. Specular herself clanked forward, pushing her snout into Reese's wet gloves.

The girl smiled. "I'm glad to see you made it, darling. Now," she shivered. "Let's go find some sun, all right?" Specular hissed and started into the darkness. Reese glared over her shoulder. "Flyheight!" she snapped. "Give me that flashlight." He surrendered it without question, just a wary look. She shone if forward and started walking. "Come _on_, I'm _cold._" He sighed and trudged wearily after her, Zeke at his side.

Specular led them through the thick darkness, navigating what seemed to have been a short passage once; it was littered with gigantic piles of shattered rock, and the walls leaned threateningly. Vegetation crept up the walls in solitary and wan-looking vines–nature taking back what was rightfully hers, even in the shadows.

Finally, a small rectangle of light appeared in a sliver, a wash of golden daylight encroaching upon the almost total darkness. Reese sighed in relief and flicked off the flashlight, tucking it back in its sling. The rectangle proved to be a crack between two huge doors, the hinges locked with rust.

Reese frowned. "Specular. Push, please." The organoid willingly stepped forward and thrust her head against the large door on the left. Her metal talons screeched on the stone as she strained against the great weight, and her tail lashed. With a roar, Zeke leapt to help, and finally the door began to shriek in protest. Slowly, it swung open, flooding the passage in light. Reese blinked hard, and then made her way through the doorway.

The ruined ceiling of the huge corridor allowed the rich sunlight to bathe the dark stone in gold, and scraggly desert plants hung over the jagged rock edges. Vast columns stood sentry, guarding the silent hall. The center of Evopolis lay at the end of the large passage that continued on, and ruined rooftops peeked over the protective valley walls that wound around the structures.

Sighing in relief, the girl spread her jacket on the warm stone, and sat down, facing the doors. She finger-combed the tangles from her hair as Van sat beside her, a strange look on his face.

"What are you doing?"

She glanced at him. "What do you mean, what am I doing? What does it _look_ like I'm doing?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Wasting time."

"Am not." She shrugged her holster from her shoulders and laid it out to dry, too. "I'm cold. I'm wet. We're going _that_ way, so I'll want to be dry," she pointed to the dim innards of the city. "We need a plan...and I really want to look at those doors."

He gave her a dirty look and sighed in exasperation. "I still say we're wasting time. We need to get this over with and get back. Thomas and Irvine will need help, I think."

Reese snorted, standing to brush herself off. "As if. They looked like they had it covered." Ignoring Van's mutter of "Not really," she approached the huge doors, running her hands over the engravings on them. She peered closely at the markings on the doors. "It's a good these thing stayed open–they took a password." After a moment, she blinked. "Oh. Never mind. Silly. I guess I forgot."

Sounding as bored as he could manage, Van asked. "What was it?"

She raised her eyebrows, glancing back at him. "You honestly don't remember? The key to the end of the world: Fiona." She stared at him, as if it was the most common thing in the world.

Van thought for a moment–the phrase did sound familiar. "But...why?" He felt oddly redundant, asking that again.

Reese turned back to looking at the doors, and was silent a long time, but then she suddenly asked, "Did you give her the name?" She didn't look at him.

Van took a minute to register exactly what she meant, his mind scrambling. "Oh, Fiona? No...it was one of the first things she said. I...just figured it was her name, is all." He shrugged uncomfortably.

Reese's eyes slid to him, and then she nodded absently, her gaze going back to the runes. "The name...Fiona...it's derived from Fionulla." She hesitated. "It was...the name of Zoid Eve's–supposed–once-human form. According to legend, anyway." She swallowed hard. "Just a...stupid story, is all." She ran her fingers across the stone of the giant doors. "But her name...was the password to the sacred city of Evopolis."

-

Wave after wave of zoids crashed onto the small human resistance; the sharp staccato shots melted together into a continuous boom. The comm. links were choked with static and frantic cries for help. Sand flew in an erratic golden rain. The roars of the zoids held a distinctly triumphant note.

Irvine gritted his teeth, directing the Blade Liger to slash through a Dark Horn. As it exploded, a Guysack landed on his back, raising a huge claw menacingly, ready to drive it through the Liger's boosters. He yelled and aimed one blade's pulse laser rifle straight up; he fired and shot the zoid through its core. As it collapsed with a shriek, Irvine punched open a comm. link. "Hermann! What's our status?"

A visual link came up, but it showed nothing but static. There was no answer, and he growled, closing it again. "We're cut off." He gunned the thrusters and shot forward to latch onto a Gunsniper's throat, and twisted until the torque ripped it out. He followed up with shots from his pulse laser cannons, felling a Zaber Fang.

"I really start to wonder...are we doing the right thing?" he muttered to himself. He sloppily sliced through a Rev Raptor, and its oversized foreclaw carved out a shallow cut on the Liger's chest.

"What makes us so sure that we are right?" He clenched his jaw and batted away a Molga that had launched itself at the Liger's cockpit. His eyes narrowed, and suddenly there was an awful, bitter taste in his mouth. "Can we...can we honestly say that we have more of a right to live than they?"

He growled, hating how he doubted himself, and let the destruction spiral away, out of control. His hands were working automatically, fingers dancing across the levers and consoles before him. The Liger roared in an echo of his feeling, and ripped into the other zoids with blind and terrible rage. Explosions bloomed in a whirlwind of fire around him, wreathing the cockpit in sparks. The Liger's blades were glowing Zabers, slicing cleanly through reinforced armor, cores and gun barrels alike. There, a Zaber Fang. A Command Wolf. A Dark Horn. Then, in a blur and flash of light, they were all gone, obliterated by the awesome firepower that the Liger hid so well.

And then there was a strange shape before him. The Liger stumbled, and Irvine blinked at the Gustav cutting across his path. He grinned wickedly. "Easy. Can't you–" And then the zoid's trailer exploded in a deafening crash.

The Liger roared in pain, thrown back by the blast. It flipped over and crashed into the sand, then lay motionless. The fire in Irvine's veins died, and he became suddenly aware of a maddening numbness that filled his head. He groaned and gingerly touched his forehead–his fingers came away sticky with blood.

"Irvine! What happened?" Thomas's voice was frantic. "Are you okay?"

He grimaced. "Yeah, I'm fine." He pulled the zoid back to its feet, and scowled to find that he'd been thrown far to the side–the battle continued on without him. "It was a Gustav, loaded with explosives. Or something."

"A suicide bomb?"

The warm drip of blood down his forehead made Irvine grimace again. "Looks that way. Killed quite a few of its own along with it, too."

Thomas shivered. "A terrorist. Did they learn that trick from us...or vice versa?" Irvine didn't answer.

Thomas shook his head and stole a look around. The main defensive line was weakly holding fast. Fatalities were relatively low so far, but anything could happen.After the Gustav... He counted silently. "Seventeen. That's about...thirty-five left." He purposely didn't add any units to the statistics. Not seventeen dead zoids, seventeen dead soldiers, Imperials or Republicans. Not seventeen dead comrades. Seven years in the military had taught him that.

Don't think, just act.

Strategy has worn itself out, and now there was only room for an all-out mêlée. Raven and Irvine continued to wreak their own sort of havoc, but he was silently grateful for it; they kept a tight hold on the middle and north edges of the desert battlefield, and had yet to be seriously pushed back. It was, however, only a matter of time.

Nothing could hold out forever.

Thomas shook his head and focused again on the battle at hand. "Hey, Beke. How are we doing on batteries?"

A little diagram popped up in the corner of the screen–half-charged. He let out his breath gustily. They were doing better than he'd though. As long as the battle didn't drag on as long again as it had, then everything would be fine. As long as Van and Reese were successful in their mysterious mission in time, then everything would be fine. If the batteries died before then...he shivered. Best not to think about it. "What if"s could kill.

Beke beeped, and crimson circles showered the screen. There came a low hum as the Megalomax cannons warmed, and he didn't look away as the cockpit's screens filled with blinding gold.

-

Reese stood, flapping out her jacket. She smiled in satisfaction when she wasn't splattered with water droplets, and pulled the sleeves up her arms. She took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, time to move."

Van scowled at her and pushed himself to his feet. "It's about time."

Reese just gave him a look and flipped up her flashlight. "C'mon, Specular, let's go." Her organoid gave a sibilant noise and rose to walk beside her.

Van stared after her a moment, distrust warring with anxiety in his dark eyes. Zeke clanked to his side and stared at him, growling a soft question. For a few long seconds, Reese and Specular's footsteps were the only sound in the quiet hall–even the sounds of the battle were muted to nothing. Finally, he swallowed hard and followed after her, jogging to catch up. Zeke trotted at his side, not entirely oblivious to his master's distress.

The hallway stretched on and on, the shadows silent and unmoving, undisturbed in the long years since their last awakening. Van personally found it to be creepy, but Reese was unaffected, and walked on, unfazed...so he didn't say anything about it. The place was so utterly devoid of life that it was disconcerting, and he wondered if Reese really thought that Fiona was in the city somewhere.

As if she had read his thoughts–maybe she had–Reese suddenly stopped and looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face. "So...just curious, but did Fiona say anything odd to you right before she disappeared? I mean, like especially and specifically odd?"

Van blinked, taken aback. Reese waited for an answer, as if it was a common and conversationalist question. He frowned. "No, I don't think so, why?"

She shrugged, looking away. "Oh, no reason. I just thought that she probably knew it was coming, is all. Never mind." She shrugged again and kept walking.

Van blocked her way. "What do you mean, _she probably knew it was coming?_" He glared at her nonchalant expression.

"What do you mean, what do I mean? She's a Pre-Cog." She let this sink in, and then added, "Duh." After a moment, she sighed in exasperation at Van's blank look. She put a hand to her forehead and mimicked shrilly, "I see it coming! Death, doom, destruction!" She let the hand drop and asked in her normal voice, "Sound familiar?"

She pushed past him, and Van let her, scowling darkly. A few steps later, she stopped and turned, a disbelieving look crossing her features. "Don't tell me you never even _considered_ her abilities?"

Van shifted uncomfortably. "Not...really." He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

She stared at him. "Of course it does!" Then, "How could you _not_ notice? Jeez, it's like a beacon or something...I didn't think it was possible to miss." She turned to face him, and counted on her fingers. "She's a Pre-Cog–oh, sorry, Pre-Cognitive–she can Dowse, and I'm pretty sure that she has the most mental sensitivity that I've ever heard of before." She shrugged. "Whatever. I guess it really doesn't matter, anyway." With that, she turned and kept walking. Specular cocked her head at him, and then turned to follow her mistress.

Van gave an exasperated sigh. "Reese."

She stopped again, impatient. "What?"

"Is there a particular _reason_ that you hate me?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Don't flatter yourself, Flyheight. I wouldn't waste my time hating you. But," she thought for a few seconds, and then shook her head, smirking. "Nope, sorry. No good reason."

Van rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Never mind. Forget I asked." Reese smiled at his frustration and kept walking.

The dark hallway soon opened into muted sunlight, the skyline of Evopolis suddenly stretching before them. The wide walkway went further, into the very heart of the city, while crumbling skyscrapers loomed dangerously over it, their shadows lurching across the path.

Reese looked briefly down the walkway, but then shook her head and went to the worn edge of the stone. She sat down and pushed herself off, her boots tapping down on the first step of the huge support pillar's spiral staircase. Van dropped heavily down beside her, and narrowly avoided losing his balance.

He glanced irritably at her. "Why do we have to go this way? What was wrong with that?" He pointed vaguely back up.

Reese shrugged. "That leads to the Zoid Eve's console area, and I'm pretty sure it collapsed last time." With that, she started down, trailing the fingers of her left hand against the reassuring wall, and her voice bounced against the stone. "Fiona's probably down _here_, anyway."

A crash right behind Van made him jump and yelp. Zeke head-butted him forward, and he edged out of the way. It was just in time, because he had serious doubts that Specular would have waited for him to be safely clear of danger. He scowled at them, then turned follow Reese; clanking footsteps behind him made him uneasily eye the unguarded edge that toppled out into nothing. The stairs wound dizzyingly about the pillar, and their steep tilt was disorienting. The smoothly carved wall escorted them down, forever down; its stone bore faded paintings or etchings. The contents of the artwork were unintelligible, for the wear of centuries had taken its toll and disguised them with dust and age.

The stairs twisted dizzily around and around for what seemed like hours, but the stone floor below was slowly coming closer, and the hollow tap of their boots and the steps of the organoids were becoming shallow sounds. The spirals finally loosened to become wider, and began to level out somewhat. When the steps spilled into another wide hallway, Van sighed in relief and leaned wearily against the pillar.

Reese stood a little way away, staring straight up. The walkway that led to the console was far, far above them, and the skyscrapers' roofs further still. She had forgotten how small it felt, to stand on the streets of her ruined city, for it was, undeniably, hers...or, at least, it had been. Now, it was just a conglomeration or crumbling stone and buried memories. She shook her head and looked down to see Van eyeing her critically.

She blinked at him. "What?"

"How close are we? How much longer?"

She shrugged. "Fiona is probably close to where the Zoid Eve was." She pointed along the same route that the walkway above took. "There, in the heart of Evopolis."

And so, once again, they began to walk.

-

She could feel them getting restless, and their burning desire to fight. Their desperate, animalistic need to triumph was growing, and beginning to override all her commands and reassurances. They were impatient and vindictive–a bad combination. The first ones had sacrificed themselves readily, and the second ones were tearing into the humans with all their might. This third group was erroneous, but they didn't care. They still wanted vengeance.

She felt the power of them all, blended within her own muscles and sinews, felt it and marveled at it. They were capable of so much, and yet still bowed to her small power...all for a weak human sentiment. She felt their self-righteousness, their anger, their thirst for revenge. They deserved their vengeance; they had waited long enough. But mostly, she felt them surging against the limits she had placed upon them.

With an effortless shrug of her mind, she set them free to rush forward unchecked. **"Go," **she hissed. **"Let them suffer for what they have done to you. Let them _bleed..._"**

**-**

Blood. It was everywhere at once, a warm gush of liquid that refused to stop. Reese gasped and clapped her hands to her face, trying to staunch the flow of crimson liquid that poured from her nose. Her palms quickly filled with it, turning them an unpleasant vermilion, and she stumbled to a halt.

A couple of drops splattered from her fingers to the stone floor, and she coughed, trying to keep her head tilted back. It just ran into her mouth, and she choked, her vision swimming.

Van turned around, startled, in time to see her sink to the ground dizzily. He approached her hunched form cautiously as she took deep, rasping breaths. Upon reaching her, he put a hesitant hand on her shoulder, and she jerked, inclining her head toward him slightly, her hands still covering her mouth and nose.

"Are you...okay?" he asked, wide-eyed.

Eyes closing, Reese shook her head. She turned back to the ground and opened her hands, letting a cascade of blood fall from her palms to the floor. Van recoiled as she coughed, spitting out more of the ruby liquid. A trickle of it still ran from her nose, but it slowly diminished to nothing. After a long moment, she wiped her face on her sleeve, and it left a bright smear.

She glanced up at Van and coughed, starting to get out one word of explanation...and then the floor began to tremble. Van swallowed hard and darted his glance around as thunder echoed against the dark stone. Reese pulled herself to her feet via Specular, and said hoarsely, "C'mon, move it." She lurched to one of the huge pillars and crouched behind its bulk. Van followed suit nervously.

Soon the rumbling became clearer, more pronounced, and finally separated into crashing footsteps. Zoids marched by in a colorful blur of gleaming canopies and glinting claws, and loose pebbles on the stone floor rattled in a rapid staccato. Their metallic hides gleamed in the dim light from above, and they single-mindedly strode on, each of their animalistic faces grinning toothily.

Van traced their liquid movements with wide eyes, the shadows playing erratically across his face. Reese just took a steadying breath, still scrubbing at her cheeks. Actually seeing the zoids, so close, made it much harder to dismiss them as non-threatening...she gently pushed Specular behind the pillar with her, and Zeke managed to follow suit, ducking into the shadows.

The zoids that passed were not necessarily different from those already battling–they varied from Command Wolves to Shield Ligers to Gordos...but for one. Van gasped as he recognized the familiar shape of the Lightning Saix. The feline zoid advanced on with the rest, onto the desert where it would surely battle its former master and friend, possibly to the death. After a few moments, the procession thinned and dissipated, a Helcat bringing up the rear. Van stumbled out into the main hall and stared incredulously after them. The clanking footsteps soon faded, to leave silence once again.

He glanced back to Reese furiously. "Exactly _how_ long did you know they were down here?"

She shrugged, shakily getting to her feet. "Long enough to get out of the way."

He threw up his hands in frustration and yelled, "Well? Any more surprises that I should know about? Maybe before they _get us killed?_" He glared at her, grinding his teeth in utter fury, and Zeke regarded him with apprehension. "Look, Reese, I'm sick and _tired_ of your attitude. I want you to tell me the truth, and I want you to tell me now. How much further do we have to go before we find Fiona?"

Reese sent an icy glare his way, drawing herself up. "I'm not keeping as much from you as you may think, okay? How was I supposed to know there were still zoids down here? I mean, I thought that maybe–"

"You _thought!_"

Reese stamped her foot and yelled, "Shut up and _listen _for a minute, Flyheight! Fiona's down here, and I can feel her coming closer! Now..." she lowered her voice and took a deep breath. "Were I you, I would be coming up with a plan. Otherwise," she giggled a little helplessly, "Your darling Fiona will kill us both."


	10. The Age of Aquarius III

**

* * *

**_Okay. So it isn't a "bitch-fight," as was the request. But it will have to do. Oh, yeah--and don't kill me. XD_**

* * *

**

**The Second Renaissance**

**Part Four: The Age of Aquarius**

**-**

**III. Rhetoric**

_When one is ill or mad, one simply passes through walls, no need to climb them. One reinvents all rules. On a whim, one imposes limits on oneself, knowing that a moment later, one may push them farther, too far. When one is mad, nothing is too far._

_When one is mad, one wishes the whole world were mad, but when the whole world goes mad, one is unhappy. How unfair: to be both unhappy and mad._

_-Elie Wiesel, _Twilight

-

The steady and muted thud of explosions rocked the body of the fallen Ultrasaurus, and their light glazed the huge canopy in poisonous light, throwing the zoid's grungy armor into harsh relief. The sparse crew of technicians and commanders sat breathlessly in the control room, avidly watching the battle unfold below them. No one spoke, for fear of materializing some unfathomable terror that might otherwise go unheeded. The comm. links had been silent for hours, leaving the imaginations of all aboard to run wildly free.

Marianne sat tersely in one of the chairs on the upper deck, her small hands gripping the armrests. Her dark eyes scanned the battlefield, desperately searching for some sign of victory, some indication that all the blood, sweat, and tears had been worth it. It all looked the same, though, and little wonder–she was the Empress of the Guylos Empire, not a commander. She was not allowed to sit in on military stratagem meetings with Rudolph, assured that it wouldn't interest her. If a would-be assassin got within long-range striking distance, her attendants bustled her away to lie safely under cover, and others "took care of it." It was hopeless to try to discern an outcome from the mêlée before her.

She snuck a look at Colonel Shubaltz. He sat, motionless, to her right, and his jade eyes were focused intently on the battle. Though his face was impassive, she noted that his hands were clenched into tight fists. The inaction seemed to infuriate him. Not only that, she realized with a pang, but his little brother was out there.

She turned her gaze back to the desert, this time in a half-hearted attempt to pick out the Lieutenant's zoid. The blurs of action were too fast to follow, and she turned dizzily away. But which zoids were moving so fast? _The winners,_ a voice in the back of her mind whispered. Surely, no human could pilot a zoid so fast...and what if that were true, and they lost? Assuming they could make it out alive, the loss of life would be staggering. Coupled with the cost of the zoids, human society would crumble.

She stifled a sharp intake of breath. What would become of her Empire? What could become of her people? They trusted her to help lead them...but that was impossible, given the current situation. Defenses of the great capitol would be comparable to nothing, and the economy! She suddenly felt dizzy again, and placed a hand on her forehead.

A nudge at her shoulder made her look up at Colonel Shubaltz's small smile. "Don't worry," he whispered. "We'll be okay." His eyes flicked to the battle again, his attention stolen by another explosion.

Marianne stared at him a moment, and her eyes slowly filled with hot, treacherous tears. What right did she have, did she ever have, to be hopeless? She swallowed hard and tentatively reached out to put her small hand on top of his, and flinched at the iciness of his fingers.

As he looked back to her in surprise, she managed a somewhat tearful smile. "I know, Colonel." She took a deep breath. "I know."

-

"Sir! We can't move back any further!"

Thomas grimaced; he'd known that it was only a matter of time before his defensive line was trapped against the Ultrasaurus's hull. He had only hoped that it would take longer. He darted a look around at the twenty or so zoids under his command; they were scattered about, stubbornly resisting the equally stubborn line of advancing zoids. As he watched, a Molga and a Godos went down with twin explosions.

"Sir?"

He scowled. It was unexpectedly trying, acting as the commanding officer; he would be sure to defer the rank to some other poor guy at the next chance he got. Or, at least, teach someone else how Beke worked. He shook his head, coming back to the dilemma at hand. He yelled, "Form up! Firing-line style! We're going to push them back!" He gritted his teeth. _It's__ the only way._

His comrades moved quickly, relieved at having orders to follow, and fell into perfect formation. Thomas eyed the Shield Ligers at either side of his Bison, and took a deep breath. Sending a silent prayer to the gods, he said simply, "Advance."

The Di-Bison bellowed, and began the march, explosions booming around them. The humans kept up a steady line of fire as they advanced, but the solid wall of zoids before them didn't move. They just roared a fearsome challenge and planted their feet, lowering their heads in preparation for a clash. The humans faltered, but then surged forward to meet them. The two lines met in a dramatic display of destruction, both sides discarding conventional weapons and resorting to teeth and claws.

As the Bison threw a Rev-Raptor from its horns, Thomas wet his lips nervously. The Shield Ligers had engaged their shields and shoved against a Gordos and a Zaber Fang. The sand roiled into a golden sea as each zoid scrambled for solid ground. A Command Wolf rushed the Di-Bison, and successfully gored itself on the sharp horns. Thomas distractedly pushed it away, and muttered, "Beke, warm the cannons."

As a low hum reverberated through the cockpit, he brought up the targeting screen. "Yes," he whispered. "No one is moving." It was an undeniable risk, and he would most likely get a verbal thrashing for it later. He decided that he didn't care, and yelled, "Megalomax, fire!" The displays filled with gold light and smoky explosions. There was a heartbeat of silence, and then one of the soldiers gave an incredulous whoop. The rest of the line dissolved into cheers. Thomas bit back a grin and ordered, "Don't break rank. Wait until the smoke clears."

Then Irvine's voice came, his tone sharp. "Thomas, get out. Now."

"What?"

"It's coming right at you, move. And–oh. Never mind. Too late."

Thomas looked up, baffled...and froze. The thick black smoke wafted to the side, revealing a distinct crimson shape in its wake. A very familiar, distinct crimson shape. A blue optic lens flashed through the smoke, and two foot-locks disengaged, driving away the last of the haze. The Genobreaker stood, in all its terrible glory, before them. As Thomas watched, its jaws opened, and a sphere of energy grew to the blinding radiance of a captive sun.

He swore and yelled over the rising panic, "Stay in formation! Prevent the Genobreaker from having a clear shot at the Ultrasaurus at all costs!" Quieter, he said, "Beke, ready the cannons again and fire as soon as possible." A weak whistle answered him; he caught sight of the dangerously low battery light, and groaned.

The line of fire broke from both sides at the same time, a blinding light that eclipsed every display screen within a quarter of a mile. The Megalomax cannons' discharge met the charged particle beam head-on, locking each zoid to a standstill. The temperature of the Bison's cockpit spiked quickly, and Thomas recalled a vividly similar incident–except that was the Genosaurer...and he'd _still_ lost.

The Di-Bison's cockpit was alive in the reflection of the twin blasts, cutting it off from the world. In a sudden instant, he became distinctly aware of an emptiness on his either side; two heartbeats later, his cannon blast punched through, and massive explosions rocked the zoid back to its haunches.

He was dimly aware of a sharp pop, and then the palm of his hand stung fiercely. He blinked at it, acutely aware of how red his blood was as it flowed down his wrist...and only then saw that one of the control panel's monitors had burst, throwing glass into his hand. Nothing else, however, was out of the ordinary, all systems green, even after a hit like that.

He gritted his teeth in a smile. "This old clunker is officially my favorite zoid."

"Speaking of which."

Thomas pressed his palm to his pants leg, the blood seeping sickeningly into the fabric. "Yes, Raven?"

A pause. "You just broke my zoid."

He darted his gaze up. "Did I?" A crumpled red heap lay before him, black smoke spiraling up thickly from it. "Whoa." Two smaller mounds of smoking metal lay to either side of it; he glanced around him–the Shield Ligers. His shoulders sagged as he realized what had happened: the Ligers had rushed the larger zoid, diverting its fire so that he could nail it with the Megalomax. They had sacrificed themselves. It was something that many soldiers swore to do; not many ever upheld the promise. He swallowed hard. "They will be remembered."

"But you broke my zoid."

Irvine snickered. "I'm guessing he doesn't care."

Raven growled something unintelligible, and Irvine gave another short laugh before turning back to what he had been doing: using the Liger's blade rifles to pick off the enemy. "Man," he muttered. "When this is all over, Van is definitely sharing his zoid. I could get used to this."

A Hel-Digunner rushed at him, and he gritted his teeth. He fired once, and missed. Twice, three more times...still nothing, and the little zoid's tail blade glittered dangerously. He fired in quick succession, too many and too fast to follow. The Hel-Digunner finally exploded, and the Liger stepped back to avoid flying metal parts.

The Liger's leg shuddered down in a jerking motion, and Irvine froze. The monitors showed a motionless scene, despite the fervent battle still racing by; images jumped erratically across the screens. He stopped breathing, as if that would help the computer parts to function. A faint smell reached his nose, a hot and foul scent. His eyes were suddenly drawn to where he had hastily stuffed the Beke unit's CPU into its port...and, with cold dread, he registered the faint wisps of smoke issuing from the drive.

-

Van stumbled to a halt, and glanced over his shoulder, unconsciously tilting his head to the side. "Hey. What was that?"

Reese glared irritably at him, but glanced back the way they'd come, nonetheless. Nothing was there. She shook her head. "You're imagining things–we're alone, and too far from the battle to hear anything." She turned and kept walking, Specular's escort comforting in its mere presence; her knees were still ominously shaky after that gruesome spew of blood.

"Are you sure?"

She stopped again and turned, more slowly, a growing suspicion in her eyes. "Why? What did you feel?"

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Uh...well, I didn't really _feel _something. Just like..." he swallowed, "a buzz. A vibration or something, in the air."

"That's impossible. You lie."

He jumped, startled into angry indignation. "I don't lie, Reese! I'm _serious_." He rubbed his arms, and she was suddenly aware of the gooseflesh that had risen on his skin.

She blinked at him, and turned away to hide her confusion. There was, of course, a tremendous current of energy sparking through the air; she had felt it, in growing intensity, since they had passed through the gates of the city. Its waves whirled around Fiona–supposedly, the eye of the proverbial storm.

Van shouldn't have felt it at all, because he was human. Maybe it was stronger than she realized, or maybe he had an innate sensitivity. It wouldn't be uncommon...but strange, so strange. She gave a shudder. Something felt wrong, something she couldn't put a finger on; it raised the hairs on the back of her neck and made her jumpy.

She turned again to look at Van, her face carefully arranged into a calm mask. "I think we should split up."

He raised an eyebrow. "Except for the fact that I don't know my way–"

"Us and the organoids, I mean." Zeke gave a little snort and eyed her with an unreadable optic lens, edging behind Van. Specular acted similarly offended. Reese rolled her eyes at the little zoids. "Oh, come on, don't be immature." She flipped her bangs from her eyes. "We have to make sure that we don't miss anything, because that could be deadly."

Van narrowed his eyes. "I thought you _were_ sure."

Her unruffled expression faltered, and then she scowled at him. "Shut up."

"But–"

"I said shut up." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Van throw up his hands in exasperation, and gave a little smirk. She laid a hand on Specular's shoulder. "Okay, doll, just go back that way, and find us if something comes up." Specular growled an affirmative, and set off into the dim shadows. As an afterthought, Reese called after her, "And don't lose what's-his-name."

"His _name_ is Zeke." The silver organoid gave a miffed little grunt as he turned away from Van, and before long, the zoids were both lost in the darkness. It really was for the best–in her current rattled state, Reese probably would have missed something...and paid for it later. It wasn't worth the risk. Van scowled at her, his irritation plain. "You don't _have_ to be difficult, you know."

She shrugged. "Neither do you."

He ground his teeth audibly. "Let's go, already."

She gave a little smirk. "Sure thing." And as they went into the dusk of Evopolis, she could almost forget the faint sway of Eve, even as it grew around her senses, crowding them into each other.

-

The Genosaurer roared as a Zaber Fang pounced onto its back. The feline zoid dug its claws in and roared triumphantly. Raven growled and whirled the zoid around in an attempt to throw the other. The Zaber stubbornly held on and leveled its pulse rifles straight forward, into the 'Saurer's inner workings. With a spike of adrenaline, Raven drove the levers home, ducking the zoid down.

The Zaber flipped over and crashed to the ground, its shots going wild. The Genosaurer followed it and buried the pulse laser rifles in the Zaber's belly. He fired twice, and the other zoid spasmed once, then was still. Raven waited a second, then withdrew, a small curl of smoke rising from the dead zoid. He gave a self-satisfied smile and turned to move on.

With no warning but a sharp, whining alert, the left side of the canopy suddenly exploded inward. With a yell, Raven threw up an arm, but not quickly enough. He squeezed his eyes shut in agony, even as he instinctively knew that it was too late.

Raven swore loudly and cracked his eyes again, forcing them open. Tears poured from the ducts, and mercifully carried the tiny crystals of glass from his eyes. Even after they were cleansed, though, the tears kept coming. No, not tears, he realized as the warm liquid met his lips. Blood.

"My eyes are bleeding," he whispered. All he could see was a burning red haze...and meaningless shadowy shapes before him that were quickly dimming. He weakly waved his hand before his face: nothing. "Shadow," he said, his voice small and desperate. "Shadow!" A soft growl answered him, and Raven murmured, "Shadow, help me. Be my eyes."

He felt the Genosaurer lurch up as Shadow took over, and forced his hands to relax from the controls. He was ensconced in darkness, and it was torture. The black void echoed with explosions and tilting vertigo, and the maddening oblivion made him feel weak and unprotected as the cockpit rocked with another blast from the nameless zoid.

Irvine saw the explosion, the flash of black metal. He did a double take and stared. His Lightning Saix, his pride and joy, twisted beautifully and fired again at the Genosaurer. Its optic lenses were wildly emerald once more, and it moved faster than ever before. He ached to see his partner without him.

He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes, then pushed the Liger forward, slowly. Something was terribly wrong with Raven's zoid–it moved sluggishly, its reaction time lagging. The Saix would kill both Raven and Shadow, and Irvine, as its rightful pilot, was ultimately responsible for its actions. The Liger quickened its pace to a loping run.

The Lightning Saix had its back turned when Irvine threw the Liger into a leap. The smaller zoid gave a shrieking hiss as the Liger pounced onto its back, and immediately rolled. The Liger roared and dug its claws in further, fangs ripping at the streamlined armor. The world spun as they twisted in the sand, the Saix struggling out of the death grip, and the Blade Liger latched on with a determined ferocity. In the midst of it all was Irvine, at some level horrified at what he was doing, and, at another, ready to kill–to sacrifice his precious zoid.

"Please," he whispered. "Please, just _stop fighting_..." His hands crept for the aiming system for the pulse lasers, and a sort of desperation seized him. He closed his eyes tightly and squeezed the trigger.

When he finally opened them again, the Saix lay still beneath the claws of the Liger. A few smoking holes stared out of the zoid's foreleg and shoulders. Irvine swallowed hard and prayed that the feline zoid could be fixed, and then turned to the Genosaurer, collapsed on its side.

"Hey, Raven?" The visual link showed static, and he felt an inexplicable stab of fear; he darted his gaze around. In the struggle with the Saix, that side of the battlefield had cleared, as the machines seemed to tire and move on. He gritted his teeth–it wouldn't be long, now. They were all exhausted, but each side was unwilling to die. All it would take was one killing blow.

He shook his head, and realized that the comm. was silent. "Raven!"

"What?" Rude as always, the maverick's tone was strangely flat.

"Are you...okay?" The mercenary peered at the large zoid, his brow knitting.

"...No."

He frowned and bit his lip. "Uh. Well, it looks like your canopy's all smashed in. How bad is it?"

A pause. "I don't know."

"Is there a particular reason why?"

"I can't...I can't see."

Irvine felt suddenly cold. "You can't see?"

"No."

"Do you need help?" He felt silly, asking the famous criminal that. But it was the only thing that would surface in his mind. _He can't see._

"If I need help," Raven replied haughtily, "then I would _ask_. Shadow is help enough, thank you." And with that, the Genosaurer struggled to its feet, its optic lens glaring crimson at Irvine.

He backed up the Liger, allowing the 'Saurer safe passage. It held its head high, the one side of the canopy sporting a yawning hole, and limped past. He frowned after it. Organoids were one of the more arcane areas of Ancient Zi's culture to him, and he didn't quite trust them–not with a human life, anyway. Raven was incapacitated, and totally relying on Shadow...it couldn't be safe.

With a slight shrug, he followed closely behind the other zoid, and decided that he didn't intend to let it out of his sight.

-

It was as he stopped his neck up at the titanic buildings around him that Van noticed a strange rattling sound. He stopped and stole a look back at Reese; her gaze seemed oddly unfocused as she passed a hand over her eyes, and her pallid skin gleamed with sweat. Her teeth were still chattering loudly, though her clothes were long-since dried.

"Uh, Reese? You...okay?"

She blinked and looked at him, her breathing labored. She didn't seem to see him for a minute, but then she shook her head, managing to keep her old, scornful character. "Of course." To prove her point, she pushed herself forward, and stumbled.

Van reached out to catch her, and frowned as his hands met her bare forearms. Her skin burned with a sick fire. "Reese, you are not okay."

The girl struggled to her feet, shaking her head. "No, I'm fine. She's..." She wiped her sleeve across her forehead, grimacing. "Fiona is close."

"What? How can you tell?"

Reese swayed a little. "I can feel her...her power." _It's__ making me sick, it's so bloody corrupt..._

A heavy clanking suddenly met her ears, and her teal eyes went wide. "Oh...no." Fighting a wave of nausea, she whirled to Van, and started pushing him. "Move, move, _move_, we have to get out of here!"

"Wha–?"

"One of the zoids, you idiot," she hissed through clenched teeth. "If it sees us, we're dead."

That got him moving.

They scrambled over a low rise of fallen stone, wedged between two gigantic pillars, then crouched on top. Reese peered around the pillar, and then ducked back. "It's a Helcat," she whispered. _Oh, Zi, where is Specular?_

Finally, preceded by a deserted hall, a silver Helcat limped into view, dragging a leg behind it. Electricity crackled ominously from its left rear paw. It staggered a little further, and then lost its footing, falling heavily to the stone floor. It lay motionless, a beaten up pile of metal.

After a minute or so, Van muttered, "I think we can go now." He started to stand, but Reese reached up and pushed him back down, a hand on his head. Van glared at her, but hesitated. She was clenching her teeth, and a new sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead. Van followed her gaze...and gasped.

It was Fiona. And yet...it wasn't. The small girl walked barefoot toward the collapsed Helcat, a tempest of raw, blue-white power whirling around her form. Her skin was alabaster, her clothes irreparably ripped and such a pale rose it may have been white, and her hair was wild and loose. And her eyes...they were cold and empty, such an alien thing to see in her sweet face. She wasn't Fiona; she was Eve.

She calmly knelt at the Helcat's side, reaching out a shimmering hand to stroke its muzzle. The zoid growled softly in reply. A muted light spread slowly from the girl's fingertips, shrouding the Helcat in glowing power. The light congregated at its injured leg, growing brighter and brighter...until it faded to reveal unblemished metal.

Van's eyes grew wide as the zoid pulled itself to its feet, nudged Fiona's shoulder in apparent thanks, and then ambled off into the dim light of the ruins. He turned to meet Reese's alarmed eyes. "That's...bad, isn't it?"

She swallowed hard. "Yes, very bad." Reese darted a look over the mound, then shakily stood. "Come on, we have to get out of the area and come up with a plan. If she senses us, then the Helcat wouldn't have needed to waste its ammo."

Van nodded and followed her, carefully picking his way down the loose shale. The stone seemed to have settled down well enough, but then again, it hadn't seen human abuse in its time stacked on the floor. A shriek of corrugated rock was Van's only warning before his stepping-stone slipped out from under his foot.

With a yell, he went crashing down. The harsh sound of falling rock echoed about the cavernous ruins deafeningly for a few breathless moments, in which Reese gave him a horrified look. She lunged for his hand and pulled him to his feet, and dropped all attempts at silence.

"Run!" she yelled. They raced down the hall, monstrous pillars escorting them down the dank stone. Reese stumbled a little, her stomach lurching. _No..._

As a low hum of energy behind them grew rapidly to a roar, Reese snatched Van's sleeve again and dove to the side. She slammed her back to the curved edge of the huge pillar just as a blast of pure power roared by, a wave of heat ruffling her short hair. She gagged at the sudden scorching air, and the stench of charred stone. A crashing report from further down the hall spoke of the thick granite walls surrounding them being devastated by the raw power that Fiona commanded.

After a few endless seconds, the blast thinned and dissipated. Reese breathed again, suddenly worn out. "And that," she said softly, "is why we didn't want to catch her attention." She drew her slitted gaze to Van. "Let's try this again."

He scowled at her and hissed, "Shut up, it was an accident." He drew himself up self-righteously. "Besides, you're sick–who are you to be giving orders?" He grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the main corridor. Reese jerked in surprise, but let him lead her, a little dazed.

She shook her head, her vision swimming, as movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned to look...and moaned, stopping dead. Van shot her a look, then followed her gaze.

Fiona stood about a hundred feet away, staring emotionlessly at them. Reese felt what little color remaining in her face draining away, and promptly ceased breathing. Fiona was staring at _her_, not Van. Nothing else held her attention. Reese swallowed and started breathing again as a fleeting thought struck her. That she wasn't human, wasn't one of those who abused the zoids, wasn't one fighting them...it might be enough to escape Eve's terrible wrath.

Her hopes were suddenly dashed, as Van dropped her wrist and moved to stand in front of her. "This is no time to be a _gentleman,_" was the hiss that escaped her clenched teeth. He didn't answer. _He's__ trying to protect me. _Reese suddenly felt like laughing, but forced the hysterical urge away and focused her gaze over Van's shoulder.

She saw the moment when Fiona's blank eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and suddenly knew what was coming. The power swirled off Fiona's skin, rolling into a sphere of solid energy. Fighting back a wave of dizziness, Reese swore loudly and shoved Van behind her. She threw out her left hand and concentrated with all she had.

The sphere of power burst just as Reese raised her panicked defenses and a wave of white-hot energy washed over her little blue-green shield in a rush of heat. Fiona's attack crashed explosively into the solid stone wall behind them, and gigantic wedges of shattered stone thundered to the floor in a cloud of dust.

Reese heard something crackle ominously, but couldn't spare her attention. She had to keep it focused into the shield...or else it was all over. _So powerful, though..._ Her vision was solid white now, Eve's power threatening to swallow them whole. Reese clenched her teeth, sweat rolling off her temples in miserable washes of intensity. The shield began to dim. _No! I can't...let it fall!_ She brought her right hand up to support the left, desperately sustaining the only chance of survival they had. Her vision blurred in tears of rage, and a final wave of exhaustion threatened to tip her feet out from under her...the shield was going to fall, she was going to fail...

And then warm strength poured into her arm, supporting the shield. Reese snapped her eyes open, focusing on her hand in front of her. Two more gloved hands gripped her wrist...Van. Reese darted a startled glance at him, but felt the shield flicker again. She hastily turned her attention back to warding off Fiona's blast of power.

Finally, an eternity later, the white-hot energy around their shield thinned and stopped. Reese sagged, lowering her hands; Van quickly released her wrist. Before them, Fiona–no, Eve–closed her terrible eyes. Reese muttered raggedly, "Go, go, she's letting us go." She lurched off, dragging Van by his sleeve. He resisted, but then surrendered, and followed, only looking back twice. Passing between the huge pillars, Reese sank to her knees, then finally just lay down, exhausted.

Van sat down beside her, and she turned an accusing eye to him. "What was _that?_"

He shrugged. "It wasn't anything."

"Liar, liar. Last time I checked, you were human. And no human can do that." She closed her eyes, brow knitting in thought. "It felt familiar, too. Like..." Her eyes snapped open again. "Like Fiona." She sighed. "Of course. That's why your organoid stayed." She sat up, disgruntled. "You could've told me."

He shrugged again. "I didn't think it was important."

She pursed her lips, but said nothing more for a few moments. Leaning against the pillar, she rested her forehead against her knees and relaxed, allowing herself to breathe. Fiona was just short of omnipotent, her power surpassing that of almost every zoid ever made. Even _if_ the Deathsaurer or Death Stinger could have dared to give her competition, she could most likely just cut the core's lifeline. The humans were only alive because she was letting them...or letting the zoids do her work.

What could stand against something so powerful? The answer was simple: something–or someone–that Fiona would not destroy without a second thought. Not a human, then...and not a zoid, because they wouldn't dare oppose their "mother." Reese sighed heavily, raising her head to stare at the stone wall before her. It was unthinkable. And the very thought _hurt._

Van stared at her as she stood, smoothing her clothes. As she tucked her hair down, she brought her gaze down to his level. Her voice was quiet as she said, "Do you have a plan?"

He frowned. "A what?" He pushed himself to his feet and returned the stare. "I thought you were the one running the show."

Reese gritted her teeth as a migraine throbbed its way into existence. Being in Fiona's immediate proximity made her stomach lurch unpleasantly, and she swallowed, with difficulty. "Are you sure? You want me to figure this out?"

Van nodded warily. Reese seemed to think for a minute, and then coolly pulled out her revolver. With a practiced motion, she flipped it over, the grip facing Van. _He needs the choice._ She held it out to him. "Here."

He jumped, staring at her hand as if she held a snake. "What?"

"Here." She gazed levelly at him. "Shoot her." A pause. "Shoot Fiona."

A look of pure fury crossed Van's face. "_Excuse me?_ How can you ask me to do that? Absolutely not." He recoiled from her.

Reese glared halfheartedly at him. "You are blinded by your love for her," she hissed. "You have to put that aside and make the right decision for your _species._ Don't you want to be able to go back to whatever living family you have?"

Something flashed in Van's eyes, and then it turned to distinct pain. "I can't. No." His voice was steely. "There has to be another way." He tried to match Reese's hard stare, but his defense was weak, and her will–even without psychological enhancement–was stronger. His glare was also diminished by the pitiful-looking cuts staining his cheeks.

Reese's eyes seemed to turn to hard chips of emerald ice, and her voice was just as cold. "There _is no other way._ You have to do it." Van didn't move, and her temper flared. Antithetically, she relaxed and became strangely calm. "Fine. You've left me no other choice."

With that, she whipped around and strode quickly back the way they'd come. Van stood motionless, staring after her for a moment, then snapped out of it with a start. Beginning to panic, he sprinted after her. Whatever that had meant, it was dangerous.

Reese stumbled back the way they had come, into the main corridor. Van stumbled to her side just as she shot him one last cold look, and raised the revolver to level it straight ahead. Van's eyes grew wide, and he yelled, "Reese! Stop! Don't–"

Reese took aim at the motionless girl before her, curled her finger around the trigger, ready to squeeze it...and then it happened. Time slowed, Reese met Fiona's eyes for a brief instant, and saw for a second what she had missed for so long. A sharp whisper escaped her lips. _Mother..._

And then, almost subconsciously, she pulled the trigger.

Van staggered to her side in time to have the gun discharge with a roar right in his ear. He gave a muffled cry, covering his ears in a belated reaction, but raised his gaze to see Fiona jerk with the impact of the bullet, a luminous fountain blossoming behind her shoulders. She fell slowly, gracefully, as if whatever powers she had held for the past week or so wouldn't let her tumble into an ungainly heap.

His grey eyes grew with horror, and he clambered to his feet, pushing past a dazed Reese to scramble across the dusty rock. A puddle of luminescence grew slowly underneath Fiona, and he realized with a shock that it was blood. _She's__ bleeding light. _He gasped out a soft, "No!" and ran on.

When Fiona died, when her life stumbled to a halt, they both felt it. It was impossible not to. A concussive wave shuddered from underneath the fallen girl, visibly sweeping away dust and pebbles in a rapidly widening, destructive radius.

It hit Van first, and he sank to his knees, holding his head in desperate fingers; it felt as though his skull would crack in two. Seconds later, he blacked out. Reese watched the wave sweep towards her expressionlessly. It seemed so, so slow... She swallowed hard and let the revolver drop to her side with a clatter.

_I...am prepared. Prepared to die._ She knew. She remembered Hiltz's words from about two years before, and understood the consequences of destroying the Zoid Eve. Although...it shouldn't have affected Van. No matter how much of Fiona he had absorbed, he was still a mere human.

The wave of power soundlessly hit the huge stone pillar just to her left. The column, nearly twenty feet in diameter, cracked at the base, but held itself upright, somehow. Reese closed her eyes and waited. She felt the glass of her goggles shatter...and then everything stopped.

-

The Di-Bison's head snapped back as the Iron Kong's huge fist clipped it under the chin. Thomas yelled as his zoid flipped backwards, the desert whirling sickeningly. As the Bison crashed down, he coughed out an oath. The slash in his hand began to bleed freely again, and he cradled it to his chest. He squinted up through the sweat...and found the mouth of the Kong's plasma cannon yawning in his face.

The breath stolen from his lungs, Thomas could only stare in cold and bottomless dread. A second passed...and then another, each defined by his impossibly slow heartbeats. Finally, the cannon backed away as the Iron Kong pulled back, turning away from him. He blinked and breathed again, then suddenly noticed the palpable silence of the battlefield. Every single zoid, unmanned or not, had frozen, and turned to face the north...and the hunched peaks of the jagged valleys that stood on the horizon.

The Di-Bison lurched unsteadily to its feet, following suit. Thomas swallowed hard, darting his gaze between his bloody hands in his lap and the controls that worked themselves. Beke's busy light was ominously dark, and no reassuring beeps or whistles resounded through the cockpit.

A low hum grew among the zoids, a deafening vibration that rattled both metal parts and sand alike. It grew to a high-pitched roar, and Thomas grimaced, clapping his bleeding hands to his ears in an attempt to block out the terrible shriek. Suddenly, it died, trailing off into a plaintive howl.

As the cry died off into the lowering sun, Thomas cast his gaze around nervously. The stretch of desert was totally silent, all the zoids frozen mid-combat. The comm. links were, for once, free, but only because the soldiers were at a confused loss for words.

Just as Thomas made up his mind to open a link, to fill the silence, to do _anything_, the console went dark, and a sick-sounding hum followed the blinking lights into darkness. He went pale as the world started to tilt. With a crash, the zoid collapsed.

He forced open the canopy and fell onto the sand, his legs refusing to support his weight. All around, zoids toppled over, their optic lenses black; the battlefield was silent, but for the crashing falls of the zoids. Soon, the showers of sand stopped, leaving the desert at an eerie standstill once more.

_"No!"_ The anguished cry tore despairingly across the sand, and Thomas twisted around to see Raven hunched over his organoid. His cheeks were bloody, his hands likewise. He made no more sound, motionless after his initial outburst. Irvine stood awkwardly at his side, looking on in something akin to sympathy.

Thomas swallowed hard and looked away, his gaze falling at the feet of his zoid. He dazedly registered the stone edging at the Bison's hooves. The core was dead, shut down in a sudden instant. Which, of course, could only mean one thing.

He turned in disbelief to the Valley, where the zoids had faced in their last moments. He'd actually suspected that destroying Fiona–their Eve–would have to be the ultimate solution...but no, not like this. Never like this. He fought the urge to cry out, to keen as the zoids had...but he knew that nothing could ever, ever fill the silence that enthralled them all, not for the rest of time.


	11. Lucifer

**The Second Renaissance**

**Part Five: Lucifer**

**-**

**I.** **Dawn**

_She felt a nausea of the soul, a hideous and sickening despair, a melancholy weariness so profound that she was going to die from it. Her last conscious thought was disgust at life; her senses had lied to her. The world was not made of energy and delight but of foulness, betrayal, and lassitude. Living was hateful, and death was no better, and from end to end of the universe this was the first and last and only truth._

_-Philip Pullman, _The Subtle Knife

-

When Reese awoke, it was because she couldn't breathe. Her eyes flew open, and she pushed herself up, coughing weakly. She wiped her face with her sleeve, trying to clear her nose and mouth of the liquid threatening to drown her, and winced as her shoulders screamed with pain. She stopped mid-motion, the sharp taste of...whatever it was...heavy on her tongue.

"But..." she trailed off, bewildered. _But__ I'm supposed to be dead..._

She glanced down at her hands, and noticed with vague surprise that they were glowing. Her green eyes traced the small puddle of the luminous fluid that almost killed her–_again?–_up the stone floor...all the way to where Fiona lay, Van kneeling beside her. It was her blood. Reese gagged. The blood of Eve.

Wretched understanding finally brought memory. Reese felt something sickly akin to regret as she took in the scene before her, forgetting the silver blood still staining her cheeks. Van cradled Fiona's lifeless body close, silently rocking back and forth in the throes of his grief. He pressed his forehead to hers, raggedly whispering, "I'm sorry, I promised, I'm _sorry..._"

Fiona's blood was everywhere, it seemed. Only the trails of it furthest from her body were still glowing silver; threads of crimson strained through in the pools closer to her, thicker and thicker, until that was the only color left. Van was covered in it, his face streaked with scarlet–and, apparently, tears–and his hands were slippery.

Reese swallowed the pain and slight nausea rising in her throat, turning her gaze away. _I did this...it's my fault she's dead._ Shaking away the pang of shame, the pool of blood before her drew her gaze again.

Reese knelt slowly, unable to take her eyes from the puddle of light in front of her. It shone silver-blue, and its surface shifted eerily. Hypnotized by its unnatural light, the girl shook off thoughts of its origins, slowly pulled off her glove and hesitantly stretched out her hand; her wrist and finger joints protested loudly at the action. She gasped a little when the fluid touched her, but then raised her hand to her face, puzzled. The liquid that met her aching fingers was cool, strangely so, and shimmered softly under her eyes.

Reese stared at it a moment more, then turned her thoughtful gaze away, and the shadows beckoned silently. She pushed away the stabbing guilt and descended into the dim light, refusing to look back, however high the scene behind her loomed. Stepping around a gigantic weathered pillar, she found what she was looking for: the fallen Helcat.

She approached it slowly, until its dirty silver bulk towered over her. She glanced at her glowing fingers, then again at the dead zoid. She swallowed hard, and dismissed the urge to babble to herself. Raising her hand, she pressed it softly to the metal, smearing the blood on gently, and then removed her fingers. For a moment, her silver fingerprints glowed, but then they faded away to nothing.

It seemed like nothing was going to happen, and Reese's shoulders slumped in disappointment. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she hung her head. As her bangs swept over her eyes, she muttered, "Then that's it. It's all over." She turned to go, defeated, and the hallway stretched before her, dark and terrible. _I should have died._

A sudden growl stopped her. Reese froze, her shoulders tautly hunched, as a light shone from behind. As it streamed past her slight form, she whirled around, tears catching in her throat. An outline of her fingerprints' whorls glowed brightly and spread, liquid-like, over the silver armor. It swirled over the zoid, blanketing it in blinding light.

Reese shielded her eyes for a moment, but then the light faded, and she lowered her hands slowly. The zoid looked unchanged...all but the blue optic lens, which brightened under her gaze. The Helcat rose, and with it came a great and terrible sadness, a profound grief that superceded all creation. It wrapped Reese in its folds, draping her in a cool and deep calm. She leaned her forehead against the chilled metal and smiled as tears crept their way from her burning eyes. "I know," she whispered. "But she doesn't have to be, not for long."

A growl echoed lowly through the zoid's body, and it started to pull away. Reese let her fingers trail along the metal as long as she could, the currents of the core tingling across her skin. Finally, the zoid was gone, and she realized for the first time that her face was damp with tears. She pressed trembling fingers to her cheeks and absently wiped blood from them. "I think...I think I understand now."

With that, she turned to walk resolutely away, down the path the Helcat had been taking. Her senses softly indicated where to go, and she followed without question. The pillars marched by in the semi-darkness, revealing corridor after corridor, leading deeper into the silent Zoidian city. She turned down the alleys, twisting along the walkways, and marveled at how she knew exactly where she was.

She stopped suddenly in another nameless hallway...there: the unmistakably shape of an organoid. Reese approached him, trying to dredge up his name from her memory. Zeke. Yes, Zeke, that was it. She knelt beside his head, and felt a brief stab of heartache for the fallen little zoid. He looked like he had died unexpectedly, stretched out, as if he had merely tripped and fallen on the stone floor, rather than felled by a virtual heart attack.

Moving much slower than she thought was possible, Reese laid her luminescent fingertips to the organoid's muzzle. As the mark began to fade, she closed her eyes and bent to press her lips to it. What felt like a static shock passed to her, and she jumped, pushing herself away and rubbing her lip as the zoid became awash in the glow of life. When the light faded, Reese leaned forward again, placing her hands on Zeke's snout, and was rewarded with a soft growl. She smiled and murmured, "Go now, Zeke. Save them while you can."

She stood and backed away as the organoid got to his feet, his tail lashing dangerously. With a nod to her, he gave a roar and shot into the shadows, his boosters streaking blue through the darkness. The sun must have set some time ago, but the ruins were bathed in a strange half-light. Reese stared at her hands, which radiated a dim silver. She smiled and went to find Specular.

-

Van was still in the exact same position when she got back, hunched over Fiona's limp body. He didn't move an inch, even when she walked impatiently to his back. Reese glared at him. "Move." She made a quick, flitting gesture with her hand, and her fingers traced glowing afterimages in the air.

Van was silent for a long moment, then he muttered, "Go away, Reese."

_Sentimental fool._ "I said _move_, Van."

He turned dead eyes to her. "And I said go _away_." He registered no surprise at her glowing appearance, or at the fact that she had not called him by his surname. "Don't you think you've done enough?" he spat.

Reese allowed a sardonic smile, and then crouched beside him. In a quick gesture, she fluttered her fingers across his forehead, the white flames dancing briefly in his hair. Van blinked and gasped, falling backwards. In that lapse of security, Reese leaned forward on her knees and pressed her fingers to Fiona's blood-smudged forehead.

Reese smirked as the white flames surged forward, trembling off her skin to envelope the fallen girl in a silvery-blue sheen. A faint roaring sound grew around them, and the light whirled in a spiral of radiance. "With the blood of Eve...comes life," she murmured, her eyes shining in the pure light.

The last of the white glow discharged itself from her body, and Reese broke the connection, slumping back in exhaustion. She received a startled glare from Van, but they both turned their attention to Fiona, her body swathed in power that came from her own blood.

Finally, in a soft hiss, the illumination rolled out in an insubstantial wave, then faded into darkness. As the light deserted her body, Fiona's eyes flew open, her chest rising in startled, shuddering breath. Her fingers futilely clenched at the damp stone under her, and she didn't seem to register where she was.

But she remembered soon enough as she was crushed into a hug. She blinked into Van's shoulder, but did nothing to resist, despite the aches that ricocheted down her joints. Catching sight of Reese, Fiona opened her mouth to say something, but closed it just as quickly at the other girl's expression. Reese had a most curious look on her face: a combination of pity and distaste. At what, Fiona couldn't fathom.

Van finally released her, pulling back to stare her in the eyes. He looked...weary, and a little distressed...not to mention streaked with blood. "Fiona...I thought I'd lost you." His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.

Fiona stared at him, nervously scanning his face. She shifted her weight onto her elbows and managed to whisper hoarsely, "Why?"

From behind them, Reese said harshly, "You don't remember?" She got to her feet and stood with her arms crossed, her jade eyes hard.

Fiona coughed. "Remember what?" Reese and Van traded a look, and she felt fear begin to edge at her mind. She finally darted a look down at herself, startled at her own bloody appearance. "...Van?" Her voice sounded like a little girl's, lost and confused, and she pushed herself away from him a little, her crimson eyes scared.

There was a very silent moment that involved a lot of staring, but then Reese sighed in exasperation. Before Van could answer, she turned abruptly and started walking away. "Come on."

Van scowled after her. "Where?"

"Just come."

Van dragged himself to his feet, pulling Fiona up with him. As soon as she was upright, her knees buckled, and she slid helplessly back down. Van knelt, offering his back to her, and weakly, Fiona complied.

As Van hurried after Reese's retreating form, she searched her memory. _Something terrible has happened...but I can't remember it. The last thing I remember...is reaching out to Eve. _After that, there was nothing. Nothing but a mixed feeling of comfort and self-satisfaction.

Reese turned up a narrow stairwell nestled between two of the pillars, taking the steps two at a time. The stairs stretched up and up, a small pinpoint of dim light far above them the only sign that the steps did, in fact, end. Fifteen minutes and over a hundred steps later, Van stumbled out of the small doorway that opened onto the top of one the plateaus that created the Valley of the Rare Hertz. The desert battleground was laid out before them, a solid view of bloody devastation.

Van let Fiona slide off his back, and her legs supported her this time. He turned to look at her, and winced. Her sunset eyes were wide, and glistened with unshed tears as they scanned over the landscape of destruction. She took a shaky step forward, her lips opening and closing silently, and her hands crept up to cover her mouth in horror. Finally, she turned to Van, and the tears started to spill over as she stammered, "V-van...did I...do this?"

Van swallowed hard, and opened his mouth to say something, but his throat constricted. He couldn't do anything else, when faced with Fiona's heartbroken expression. He closed his lips and looked away, swallowing hard.

"Did I?" she whispered again, trying to meet his eyes.

Reese interjected coldly, "Yes. It's as simple as that. You, Fiona, Alisi Lynette, or whatever name you choose these days, caused all the ruin you see here." Fiona darted her gaze around to look at the other girl, and she looked even more stunned at the affirmation.

Without stopping for breath, Reese went on hotly. "_You_ commanded the zoids, _you _tried to obliterate the humans of Zi, and _you _faced the Imperial and Republican armies as an enemy." Her eyes burned with a curious flame. "And you...you became an abomination of the Zoidian race."

Van glared at her, fury etched on his features. "Reese, that's _enough._ Stop." He stepped protectively in front of a shaken Fiona.

"She needs to know what she's done." Reese's voice was harsh, but couldn't mask the pain that sat there, nevertheless.

"I mean it! Just leave it alone for now."

"You're naïve!" Reese furiously waved a hand at the valley in front of them. "All of it's not just going to go away! She needs to face it. _Now._"

Van's voice was despairing. "No, not now! She needs to rest. Or something."

Fiona slipped out from behind him and stepped closer to the edge of the steep cliff, looking out onto the valley. Van and Reese's voices fell quiet, their invisible gazes following her unsteady movement. Fiona let her eyes travel over the cluttered sand, covered in smoking heaps of metal that only vaguely resembled zoids. One of the machines roared piteously in the distance. They were alive, but only thanks to the bright flashes of light–healed organoids–that darted from hulk to hulk, reviving each core independently. Most...would never rise again. Those who would ultimately had Reese to thank. The Ultrasaurus was to the east, a flurry of activity almost smothered by the sheer number of people there; they were swamped. The valley was silent, as twilight fell upon the bloody battlefield.

She felt tears spill down her cheeks again. "Oh, Reese. Why..." She slid brokenly to her knees, burying her face in her hands, and whispered, "Why didn't you just let me _die?_"

There was no answer from behind her.

**-**

_"...There still has not been a confirmed report of what caused the zoids to rebel in the first place, but investigators are still examining the evidence found. In other news, most of the wild zoids have been gathered. However, it would seem that they have minds of their own, this time. _

_"What would previously be a considered selective or demanding personality is now the norm among the zoids, and they will not allow just any candidate to pilot them. Anxious to prevent a repeat of the last few weeks, officials are not trying to discipline these zoids at all, but are allowing them to pick and choose their pilots. No reports of violent behavior since the initial incident have come in._

_"At the site of the concluding battle, countless numbers of zoids were sacrificed, and the loss of human life is just as staggering. Some specialists have theorized that the actual cause of the battle in question lies with the location: the Valley of the Rare Hertz, notorious for the rebellious attributes it inspires in zoids. However, military officials discourage this rumor. Imperial Colonel Karl Lichten Shubaltz is remaining at the site to assist with cleanup. He has, however, refused to comment on the issue at this time._

_"The Imperial maverick known as Raven has once again disappeared without a trace. However, military officials have decided to let him go, and his most recent crimes against the Empire and Republic have been waived. This does not, however, constitute that the renegade is safe; officials discourage any sort of contact with Raven or his affiliated zoids. Any sitings that denote aggressive intentions are to be reported immediately._

_"Later, we have exclusive interviews with Colonel Robert Hermann and Doctor D. Thank you for watching this special report–"_

Zeke rested his muzzle against the power button of the television set, gently applying just enough pressure to turn it off. This done, he turned and surveyed the apartment. It was early afternoon, and may as well have been unoccupied. The sun's bright rays shone cheerfully through the bay windows, casting distinct shadows on the carpet. Assorted birds twittered noisily on the balcony, mingling with the crashes of working zoids and those few luxury cars that still remained in the capital.

The zoids had fit almost seamlessly back into the society that had evolved around their existence. The humans were cautious around them, but still nervously depended upon them for those menial tasks that demanded the agility and versatility of zoids. That tension was especially apparent in Guygalos, the Imperial capital. Zeke, however, still managed to elicit the most discomfort amongst civilians.

The organoid shook his head turned and clanked off to Van's bedroom. He nosed the door, hard, and it swung open to reveal Van, still stretched out on his untidy bed, sound asleep. He was oblivious to the sunshine creeping ominously towards his peaceful face, and didn't look as if he'd moved at all in the four days since he, Fiona, and Zeke had returned from Elemia.

A scrawled note from Irvine floated from the side table in a slight breeze from outside. _Gone to find 'Bay, _it read. _Saix needs repairs_. Thomas had handed it to them with a roll of his eyes just before they'd left the desert, and muttered something resentful about mercenaries. The technician himself was rather the worse for wear, his hand wrapped in soggy bandages, his cheeks sunburned, and his eyes hollowly exhausted. He had made Van promise to keep him up-to-date on Fiona's condition.

Van made a sleep-sound and rolled over, his hand flopping over the bedside. Zeke crept curiously forward, growling to himself. When he reached the head, where Van's arm hung over the side, he grunted and nudged his master's hand. It fell limply back down, to no effect. The organoid sighed and turned to retreat, intending to inspect Fiona's room, instead.

Zeke nudged the door open, and was rewarded with the sight of Fiona curled up on her side, asleep as well. She lay motionless, and breathed the deep sighs of the exhausted. Zeke cocked his head to one side, and edged over to the other side of her bed. Fiona's room was much cooler than Van's was, mostly due to the curtains that shielded it from the worst of Guygalos's hot sunlight.

The girl had kicked aside her comforter on the window-side, and her hands lay almost clasped in front of her face. Her face was troubled, her expression frozen in dreamless sleep. Zeke zeroed in on his target, and leaned across the bed to put his nose in her cupped hands, growling the same question he had asked Van.

Fiona's crimson eyes slid slowly open, focusing on Zeke's face, only an inch or so away from her own. She blinked tiredly and smiled. "Hey, Zeke. What's up?" She pulled one hand away to tuck a loose section of hair from her face, and stifled a yawn.

Zeke didn't really answer her, but just pushed his muzzle harder into her left hand.

"Time for me to get up?" She sighed, and pushed herself up reluctantly. The comforter fell away, and she shivered at the sudden lack of warmth it caused. Sliding to the side of the bed closest to the door, she put her legs over the side. "Come on, I'll keep you company."

She grabbed a hairbrush from her side table as she went, Zeke trailing closely behind. She wore a large T-shirt and shorts, and the linoleum of the kitchenette was a cold shock to her warm, bare feet. Fiona poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the counter, starting to brush out the tangles in her long hair.

Her hair's color was strange, now; not having retained its golden, almost honey-blonde hue, it was more white than blonde. Its present color was bright, a shiny platinum that only looked blonde in shadow. Her skin was paler than ever, as well, and contrasted sharply with her scarlet eyes. Even more blatant was the perfectly circular scar just below her collarbone; Reese's bullet had carved a hole through her body, and she could probably find a matching scar on her shoulder blade, had she the heart to look.

Her appearance was unsettling to see in the mirror, and served as a bitter memory of what had taken place, what she had become. She pulled the brush savagely through the bright locks, clenching her teeth. The pale strands filled her vision, almost blinding her with their intensity. After a minute or so, she realized that she was choked with tears, and she stopped. She ran her hands through her hair, holding it away from her face at its roots, so that she couldn't see it, and darted a glance at Zeke.

The organoid sat to her left, looking almost puzzled. Fiona sniffed. "I look really dumb, don't I?" He stayed silent, and she let her hands drop, her hair falling back to its characteristic style. "You don't...understand, Zeke. I did terrible things. Unforgivable things." She shook her head. "I...I practically realized Hiltz's dreams." A lump rose steadily in her throat. "I...I _killed,_ Zeke." She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, clutching her bangs in shaky hands for what felt like a long time.

It felt as if she had done too much crying in the past few days, and her eyes ached. Ever since they had returned, she spent her days in her room, waiting for night, and the forgiving darkness it brought. Van had made a sweet point of checking on her whenever he could, but she ignored his whispered calls. She came out of her room only when she was sure that Van was asleep, managing to choke down whatever food was necessary to stay alive. After that, she simply retreated to the solace of her room, trying and failing to sleep...trying and failing not to think about what she had done. Whenever she could, she forced down a sleeping pill or two–anything to slip into dreamless slumber, and to not have to live with herself.

Clanging steps faded from earshot, and the room was silent again. Finally, a cold, metal head sat itself on her leg. Fiona opened her ruby eyes to see Zeke holding something in his mouth and staring hopefully at her. He jerked his head meaningfully, and she put an upturned palm under his chin.

Zeke opened his jaws, and a leather holster tumbled into her hands. Her eyes widened as she recognized Van's handleblade. Her gaze darted back up to Zeke's, and fear froze her insides, a horrible, numb feeling that cut through her grief. "You can't mean...you think I should..." Zeke's intuition was always correct, and if he assumed that she were better off dead, than she would accept his judgment as law.

Zeke snorted and shook his head vigorously, looking outraged. He stretched up and swished his nose through her long hair. This done, he turned to look back at her, and cocked his head to the side again. Apparently satisfied with this answer to her problems, he turned and laid down on the carpet.

Fiona gently slipped the knife from its buttery-soft leather casing. The blade was sharp, and glinted dangerously in the afternoon light. She reached a hand up to the nape of her neck, and then stretched it down the length of her long, silky hair. She only ran out of tresses when her hand passed the seat of her chair. Reaching up to grasp her bangs, she pulled them down in front of her nose.

Slowly, very slowly, she pulled up her right hand, the large grip of Van's handleblade clutched clumsily in her small, inexperienced fingers. With only one last hesitation, she put the sharp edge to the taut locks, and began to cut.

-

At about mid-afternoon, Van stumbled from his bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily. The sun had finally hit him squarely across the face, its blinding light making it impossible to be dead to the world for much longer. His first thought was for food; then to check on Fiona. It was as much to confirm his own incredulity that she was really _back_as it was to worry for her health. She couldn't mourn for the planet much longer, or else she would surely waste away.

Zeke roared in greeting, clearly happy to see him. The silver zoid pushed his head into Van's hand, practically purring. Van frowned at him; it was the most jubilant he had acted since the Death Saurer's defeat. Zeke kept following him to the counter, a constant and insistent press against his hip; so insistent, in fact, that he almost succeeded in pushing Van over.

Upon reaching the wraparound counter, Van froze breathlessly, spotting his handleblade. "That...wasn't..." His mind raced, immediately jumping to the worst-case scenario. _Where is she?_ Fiona _could've_ woken up from her near coma-like state...but she wasn't that badly off, was she? She never really seemed the type that would commit suicide...but she was so good at hiding things. Not that she'd _had_ to hide anything from him–she had successfully avoided him altogether for the last few days. The only reason he knew that she hadn't committed suicide before then was that he managed to check on her whenever he awoke. _Where?__ I have to find her._

Suddenly very much awake, Van gripped his blade tightly and darted his gaze around for other signs of anything amiss. The apartment was quiet and peaceful, everything in order. Van started toward Fiona's bedroom, but Zeke blocked his way. Something clicked in his mind: _Zeke's...happy. _Surely, the organoid would have woken him if something really bad had happened to the girl; obviously, he hadn't.

The organoid head-butted Van's leg, nudging and bumping him in the opposite direction–to the open door of the balcony. Van relaxed, and let him, considerably calmer; he took a deep breath of the summer breeze and smiled, convinced of life's optimism. Reaching the sliding glass door, Van poked his head out. "Hey, Fi...?" He froze. And said quietly, "Oh."

Fiona sat in one of the metal deck chairs that looked out over Guygalos, and in her lap was a pile of shimmering locks that used to be growing from her head; she had been absently braiding the longest strands of it together, and her hands were frozen mid-action. Now, her bangs grazed her cheekbones, and the rest of her hair curled gently under her ears. He stared at her, awestruck, and she returned a slightly surprised and worried gaze. He approached her slowly, as if afraid that she would bolt, like a wild animal.

She stood and placed the long mane of gold in the seat of her chair, and turned to face him. Standing before the slight girl, he reached up a hand. She didn't move a muscle as his fingers came in contact with her jaw line, sliding his hand up to cup her cheek. His grey eyes puzzled, he said simply, "Why?"

At that, she smiled, her left hand creeping up to cover his. "Because." Her voice was quiet. "I need to forget." Her crimson eyes, now in such contrast with her pallid skin, searched his for something.

Van opened his mouth, but nothing seemed to be the right thing to say. He searched his mind for a brief moment, but only came up with a lame, "I'm...sorry."

Her eyes softened. "Don't be."

After a moment, Van said, "It's going to be okay, you know."

He looked like he half-expected her to protest, but Fiona just gave another smile. "I know." He stared at her. "It is, now." It was only then that she could feel how he'd changed. He had grown up, matured, in her absence. There was a certain age to him now, and she instinctively knew that their relationship, the one thing that she treasured above all else, had changed. It had progressed beyond what she had first known it to be, and grown along with them.

She tightened her fingers around his hand. "Van?"

"Yes?"

She smiled again. "Stay with me?"

He blinked at her, his eyes confused. "Of course." Then, "Always."

It was only later, as Fiona sat in Van's lap in the deck chair with his arms around her waist, the starry night dancing in the sky, that a fleeting memory captured her mind. A month or so after the final defeat of the Deathsaurer, Reese had asked her a question. It may have been over the phone, or in person; she couldn't really remember. It had probably been in person, though.

Apparently frustrated over the other Ancient Zoidian's choices, Reese had raised a cynical eyebrow and said, _What__ do you see in him? _It was obvious that she meant Van. Fiona had flushed in embarrassment and scrambled to change the subject.

But now, with the knowledge of centuries weighing on her mind, she crept back to that ever-sensitive subject. Everything had changed: the zoid-human relations were reborn into new light...Eve was finally gone, stealing her strife into oblivion...and the blood of the world dripped heavily from her hands. It seemed, though, that she was getting the chance to cleanse herself.

_What do I see in him?_

Fiona glanced up to study Van's profile for a moment, memorizing the contours of his face. The stars and bright lights of Guygalos gleamed off his tanned cheeks, and her short hair blew against his lips. He was happy with himself. He was happy with her. He would stay with her always. Finally, he darted his gaze to lock with hers, and she knew. Fiona smiled genuinely at him and settled more comfortably against his chest, the soothing rhythm of his heart beating against her shoulders.

_Myself. _She stifled a giggle. _I see myself._

_-_

In an obscure part of the Republic, somewhere between New Helic City and the Central Range, overgrown trees sheltered a large observatory, its huge front windows scratched and dirty with age. A crimson Genobreaker crouched against the rear wall of the building, its metal sand-worn. Flattened trees marked the makeshift path to the forgotten building's base.

Raven sat on the balcony of his old home, elbows propped on the surrounding ledge. The summer day, though cooler than that of Guygalos, was still hot, and beat down oppressively on his shoulders. The maverick scowled and turned away from the pastoral vista to look behind him.

Shadow's stony body lay motionless on the tile of the deck, just as it had for almost a week. While the other zoids had regained vitality, his organoid had stayed heartbreakingly lifeless, until he was the only one left. With some assistance from the other mercenary, Raven had located his 'Breaker and managed to program in the coordinates of his home, Shadow clenched in its claws.

In a few days, he had regained his sight, however indistinct it was. His vision still marginally blurry, Raven could make out the familiar sights of the observatory, and a little beyond that. All that really mattered was that he had Shadow memorized, waiting for the slightest change in his condition, waiting for him to wake up.

With that thought, Raven stood and shuffled over to the organoid's inert form, and crouched beside him. He ran his scarred hand over Shadow's side, sighing heavily. How long would it take to happen? What if it...never happened? It was too terrible even to consider, and he shook off the thought angrily.

Then a voice came from behind him, low and sweet and terrible. "He's not going to wake up, you know." A pause. "Not without some help, anyway."

Raven stiffened and looked over his shoulder, his newly healed eyes half-focusing on the shape of Reese sitting cross-legged on the ledge of the balcony. She seemed to smirk at him in contempt...or something like that. She confirmed his thoughts by saying laughingly, "Can you even _see_ me?"

He scowled at her and faced her fully, refusing to show any weakness. "Of course I can see you, Reese. I'm not–" He faltered.

"Blind? Looks that way to me." She hopped down and walked toward him. Raven pushed himself to his feet and stood protectively in front of Shadow.

"What do you want?"

Close-up, she was less fuzzy. "I'm just returning a favor." She sighed in exasperation. "Oh, move already, Raven. I'm not going to hurt Shadow. You want him back, don't you?"

Raven squinted at her for a moment, and she stared back with that aggravating self-assured air of hers. Finally, he gritted his teeth and stood aside. She brushed past with a stiff, "_Thank_ you."

She knelt beside Shadow and stretched out her slender fingers. Raven sat down and watched her as best he could, her pale hands searching down the organoid's hide. Conversationally, she said, "Sorry I didn't take care of him...I really meant to make it down to the desert." Raven didn't answer, and she fell silent.

Finally, she inhaled slowly, closing her eyes. An instant later, something sparked under her fingers, a blinding flash that made Raven wince. "What was _that?_" Reese didn't say anything, just sat back as the organoid in front of them growled softly. Raven's eyes went wide in disbelief. _"Shadow?"_The little zoid answered by pushing his snout into his scarred hand.

Raven looked in Reese's direction. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Reese stood, dusting off her blue dress. "I said I was just repaying a favor."

"A favor? You mean it takes you two years to repay a favor?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes." She walked to the ledge of the balcony. "Shadow will be tired for a few days, so don't expect him to be fusing with the Genobreaker anytime soon." She glanced at him. "You know, you really should have some zoid magnite on hand if this sort of thing ever happens again."

"Zoid magnite? But you didn't use any."

She shrugged again. "I think I still have some residual powers of Eve's running through my veins. Any other time, I would need the rock. Although..." There was a smile in her voice. "It shouldn't happen again, short of another revolution. Shadow is special, remember? And he's not the only one."

Raven scowled. "What do you mean? I'm getting tired of you saying things like that."

"What do I mean?" Her footsteps came closer. "You mean you never thought about it? Why Shadow is the only recovered organoid who isn't bonded with an Ancient Zoidian? Why the Dark Kaiser wanted both of you on his side? Why you could tame him in the first place?" Suddenly, she was standing right in front of him, a bleary blue shape.

Raven uneasily tried to focus on her, and kept an uncertain hand on Shadow's neck. "I don't know what you're talking–"

She crouched and grabbed his chin, only inches from his face. "Raven. Darling. Don't you ever think?" Suddenly, he didn't have to try to focus on her anymore, because her face was crystal clear and mocking him, just as she always was. Her turquoise eyes darted back and forth between his, and she gave a little smile, her bangs falling forward to hang in her eyes. "No, I guess you don't. But I thought you knew." He faintly noticed that the blue strands sported paler streaks, now.

He shook his head, his mind registering her words and scrambling to follow. "Knew _what?_"

She leaned forward, her bangs brushing against his cheek as her lips got closer to his ear. "I _mean_," she whispered, "the strain of Zoidian in your blood. You are of the Ancient Race."

Raven inhaled sharply, and she smirked, her words branding themselves on his mind.

"You are one of us."

* * *

_Dun dun dunnnn... Yay TSR is dead! Ding dong, the witch is dead. No really, it's been done since December. _

_Thank you to all of you beautiful people who actually paid attention to me when I posted this, I'm forever indebted to you. And, of course, there're those who saw this before I posted, who helped me to make it presentable. All my love to Maelgwyn, Red Baroness, Shadowcat, Dark-lil-Devil, Neo-sama, Dillon, my mother, Aunt Mary, Michiko-ALL of you. You picked me up when I was down, and turned my block into the sweetest inspiration. Thank you, Vappa, even though I doubt you've read this. Your fictions ultimately inspired me to reconsider how I wrote, and the characters I commanded._

_Yes, there's a sequel. Yes, I'm a psycho. I'm only three pages in right now, and I hope for it to grow...quite a bit more. I have no idea how long it will take me to get where I want to be. I have to write it, because the ideas are itching at me, and I'm in love with my character development. Here's a hint-that last line, with Raven and Reese? Yeeeeeeeeah..._

_So yes. I do suppose I had a mission with this. If I managed to make you think, if I managed to make you not hate a character, to (heaven forbid) inspire something, then my life is complete. I love you all, and will see you when_ Double Helix _is complete. If you have any questions, any at all, feel free to mail me at my listed mail on my bio (sorry, won't show here, it hates me)...then you'll end up with a reply relatively quickly. _

_Mwah!_

* * *


End file.
